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In  the  Bosom  of  the 
Comanches 


A  Thrilling  Tale  of  Savage  Indian  Life,  Massacre 
and  Captivitg  Truthfullg  Told  bg 
a  Surviving  Captive 


Texas  Borderland  Perils  and 
Scenes  Depicted 


The  Closing  Dags  of  the  Trging  Indian  Struggles 
upon  the  Frontiers  of  Texas 


PRICE,  $1.50 


By 

T.  A.  BABB 

Amarillo,  Texas 


Copyright  1912  by  T.  A.  Babb 

(All  rights  reserved) 


Second  Edition  1923 


PRESS  OF 

Hargreaves  Printing  Company 

DALLAS 


Index  fo  Illustrations 

Dot  Babb . Frontispiece 

James  W.  Babb .  17 

Dot  Babb  and  his  horse,  Old  Coley .  18 

John  S.  Babb .  21 

Omercawbey  . . .  23 

Black  Hawk  and  Squaw .  25 

Black  Hawk  .  29 

Mrs.  J.  D.  Bell . 31 

Congressman  John  W.  Stephens .  33 

Indian  Warriors  .  35 

Chief  Horse  Back .  39 

Indian  in  Full  Regalia .  41 

Chief  Esserhaby . 45 

John  Pasawaky .  49 

Chief  Esserhaby’s  Grandson,  Squaws  and  Papoose .  53 

Miss  Margie  Babb .  57 

H.  C.  Babb .  61 

James  W.  Babb .  63 

Rufus  Booth  .  67 

Geo.  Stephens  .  69 

An  Ex-Warrior  and  His  Family .  73 

Comanche  Medicine  Man  and  Teepee .  75 

Jimmie  Roberts  . . .  79 

Quanah  Parker  and  three  of  his  Wives .  83 

Mrs.  T.  A.  (Dot)  Babb .  89 

Mrs.  Graham .  91 

Grandma  Ibbie  Gordon .  93 

Maxine  Babb  . 95 

Quanah  Parker’s  Stage  Coach .  97 

Quanah  Parker  .  99 

Amarillo  Residence  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dot  Babb . 101 

Quanah  Parker’s  Home . 103 

Quanah  Parker  in  Costume . 105 

Waneda  Parker . 109 

Scene  on  Dot  Babb’s  Ranch . Ill 

Parkerheimer,  Squaw  and  Son . 113 

Daughter  of  Chief  Tabernanika . 117 

Tom  Watsacoder  and  other  Indians  in  Regalia . 119 

Comanche  Dwelling  . 121 

Indians  Butchering  a  Cow . 125 

Apache  Girls  going  for  Water . 127 

Quanah  Parker  and  his  old  home . ; . . . 131 

Comanche  Babe  and  Cradle . 133 

Tah-hah  . 135 

An  Indian  Belle  of  recent  times . 137 

Present  Day  Indian  Girls  Visiting  the  City . 139 

Indians  drawing  rations  near  Fort  Sill . 141 

Fourth  of  July  Celebration,  Snyder,  Okla . 143 

Present  Day  Comanche  Mother  and  Son . 145 


INTRODUCTION 


In  the  unchallenged  verity  of  the  chronicle  of  Theodore 
Adolphus  Babb,  better  known  as  Dot  Babb,  recorded  in  the 
pages  that  follow  is  vouchsafed  a  sustained  and  absorbing 
interest  to  the  reader  and  the  student:  a  dissolvent  of  the 
mystical  haziness  that  has  characterized  so  much  of  the  Indian 
lore,  current  hitherto;  and  a  contribution  to  history,  an 
inestimable  legacy  and  gift  to  prosperity  as  rare  and  timely 
as  truth  is  mighty  and  eternal.  Mr.  Babb,  a  descendant  of 
resolute  venturesome  pioneer  stock,  entered  upon  an  eventful 
boyhood  in  the  untamed  wilds  of  the  western  border  of 
Texas  in  a  locality  and  period  when  the  mounted  Indian 
marauder  with  his  panoply  of  war  and  death  was  often  seen 
silhouetted  against  the  distant  horizon,  at  a  time  when  the 
spectre  of  tragedy  and  desolation,  of  atrocious  massacre, 
mutilation,  captivity,  and  torture,  cast  its  terrifying  shadow 
athwart  the  fireside  of  every  pioneer  home ;  when,  unheralded, 
cunning  monsters  of  vindictive  savage  hate,  here  and  there 
among  the  settlers,  in  unguarded  repose  or  fancied  security, 
sprang  from  stealthy  ambush,  from  the  wood-land’s  dark 
border,  the  sheltering  hillside  and  gulch,  or  the  shadowy 
lustre  of  an  unwelcome  fateful  full  moon,  amid  and  unheed¬ 
ing  the  shrieks  of  horror  and  frenzied  slaughter,  mingled 
with  the  cries  of  anguish  and  prayers  of  women  and  children 
kneeling  before  their  doom,  they  struck  with  the  fangs  of 
the  most  vicious,  merciless,  and  unreasoning  beast,  and 
in  their  unrestrained  and  unresisted  madness  and  ferocity, 
they  left  in  the  crimson  wake  a  sickening  chapter  of  ghastly 
human  wreckage  of  whole  families  exterminated,  in  either 
a  fiendish  butchery  or  revolting  captivity  without  a  counter- 


part  in  all  the  annals  of  every  race  and  age  since  the  hour 
of  the  dawn  of  Christendom,  if  not  since  the  world  began. 

At  a  time  when  there  were  no  white  flags  and  no  sur¬ 
render,  and  only  such  alternatives  as  death,  flight,  or  cap¬ 
tivity;  when  lion-hearted  men  defiant  of  frightful  conse¬ 
quences  went  afield,  tended  the  herds  and  flocks,  and  pursued 
the  chase  of  all  the  vocations  of  daily  life  heavily  armed, 
perhaps  never  to  return,  or  returning  to  find  a  home  in 
ruin  and  the  family  either  annihilated  or  some  members  mur¬ 
dered,  some  made  captive,  and  still  others  that  miraculously 
escaped  by  flight,  concealment,  the  coincidence  of  absence, 
or  being  stricken  down  and  unwittingly  left  for  dead;  when 
upon  these  scenes  of  appalling  desolation  men  and  women 
assembled,  the  survivors  buried  their  dead  and  with  the 
gory  fragments  builded  again,  animated  by  the  one 
unconquerable  purpose  to  defend,  hold  or  die  on  their  border 
heritage.  At  a  time  when  keenest  vigil  day  and  night  was 
never  relaxed  by  man  or  beast,  when  the  horizon  was  anx¬ 
iously  scanned  for  the  ascending  camp  fire  smoke,  swirling 
clouds  of  dust  or  other  such  unfailing  portents  of  the  red 
messengers  of  devastation  and  death;  when  every  moon¬ 
beam  and  shadow  in  thicket  or  grove,  when  every  sound 
or  noise  breaking  the  slumbrous  solitudes  (whether  a  gust 
of  wind  or  the  flapping  of  wings  or  plaintive  notes  of  noc¬ 
turnal  fowls)  was  seen,  heard  and  interpreted  with  strained 
senses  of  preternatural  power;  at  a  time  when  swift  hoof- 
beats  rang  out  upon  the  stillness  of  the  night  the  warning 
of  perhaps  the  sole  survivor  of  the  latest  massacre,  and, 
with  relays  of  horses  fleeting  and  untiring  as  if  conscious 
of  their  mission,  the  gruesome  tidings  were  borne  to  the 
settler  far  and  near.  Being  thus  warned  Spartan  men  and 
women  grimly  and  silently  prepared  for  the  onslaught,  pad¬ 
locking  corrals,  replenishing  the  supply  of  water  from  the 
spring  or  well,  barricading  doors  and  with  shotted  rifles, 
bullet  molds,  and  powder,  stoically  awaited  the  attack. 
During  the  nerve-racking  watches  of  the  dismal  night,  as 


babes  and  children  lapsed  into  a  slumber  perhaps  eternal, 

i 

no  sentinel  nodded  or  slept  at  his  expectant  post.  When  at 
length  the  attack  came,  the  defenders,  conscious  that  no 
quarter  could.be  asked  or  given,  were  transformed  into  an 
incarnation  of  belligerent  fury,  a  super-human  maelstrom 
of  action  and  combative  power,  and  with  souls  and  all 
reserve  forces  and  energies  ablaze,  and  an  unconquerable 
purpose  to  shield  and  preserve  their  loved  ones,  they 
grappled  with  the  demoniacal  savage.  Failing,  all  perished 
together  upon  the  hallowed  altar  and  sanctuary  of  a  family 
and  home  pulsating  and  resounding  a  few  hours  before  the 
emotions  and  manifestations  of  love,  joy,  and  hope. 

From  this  circle  of  dramatic  episodes,  struggle,  and 
peril,  Dot  Babb  was  evolved,  and  amid  such  stirring  scenes 
he  passed  his  early  youth  and  advancing  boyhood  up  to 
the  hour  of  the  tragical  climax  of  the  unutterably  hor¬ 
rifying  and  heartrendering  spectacle  of  his  beloved  mother 
impaled  by  the  Indian  as  she  pleaded  for  her  children  and 
his  still  deeper  sorrow  in  being  torn  from  her  dying  embrace 
for  the  inevitable  captivity  which  immediately  followed  and 
her  farewell  words  of  solace  in  his  inconsolable  distress,  and 
the  tender  maternal  benediction  gently  spoken  as  he  looked 
back  into  tear  bedewed  eyes  for  the  last  glimpse  and  vision 
on  earth  of  a  sainted  face  on  which  he  plainly  saw  the  un¬ 
mistakable  pallor  of  fast  approaching  death.  In  this  enforced 
captivity  by  the  Comanches,  one  of  the  fiercest  Indian 
tribes  then  extant,  Dot  Babb  approached  his  maturing  years 
as  a  full-fledged  warrior,  being  made  to  engage  in  raids  and 
battles  in  common  with  the  Indian  braves.  His  experiences, 
privations  and  exploits  he  recounts  with  the  sim¬ 
plicity  and  vividness  of  truth  and  in  a  like  manner  details 
his  reclamation  by  the  United  States  Army  and  his  eventual 
restoration  to  the  fragmentary  units  of  his  shattered  family, 
his  recivilization  and  subsequent  career  notable  for  the 
highest  probity  of  character  and  usefulness  as  a  most 
worthy  and  valued  citizen  down  to  this  good  hour,  which 


finds  him  happy  and  prosperous  in  the  sunset  of  a  thrilling 
life,  whether  peacefully  pursuing  the  herds  on  the  broad 
acres  of  his  Panhandle  ranch  or  extending  the  proverbial 
pioneer  hospitality  of  a  spacious  and  beautiful  home  in 
Amarillo,  Texas,  to  his  old-time  friends,  who  are  legion. 
Upon  his  return  from  an  unwilling  militant  service  in  the 
ranks  of  the  red  warriors  to  the  society  of  his  fellows,  Mr. 
Babb  was  quick  to  re-adopt  and  experience  a  complete 
revival  of  the  inherent  sentiments  and  amenities  of  civilized 
life.  After  becoming  settled  in  his  chosen  avocation  of 
cattle  raising  he  married  the  splendid  and  estimable  woman 
who  to-day  is  his  greatest  comfort  in  presiding  over  his 
elegent  and  hospitable  home  and  in  sharing  with  him  the 
honor  and  blessing  of  the  sterling  family  they  have  reared. 

At  an  impressionable  age  Dot  Babb,  the  boy  captive 
and  warrior,  had  much  intimate  contact  with  the  inner 
Indian  life,  motives,  habits  and  tribal  laws,  superstitions, 
joys,  and  sorrows  of  which  the  Dot  Babb  of  to-day  dis¬ 
closes  glimpses  as  rare  as  they  are  interesting  and  instructive. 
Mr.  Babb  found  much  worthy  of  admiration  and  emulation 
if  not  adoption  in  the  Indian  character,  in  their  traditional 
laws,  heroic  and  domestic  life;  and  being  made  familiar  with 
the  Indian  view  point  he  has  found  no  little  to  condone 
and  defend  that  in  the  public  imagination  has  had  universal 
and  popular  condemnation.  In  the  period  of  his  captivity 
there  were  cemented  between  him  and  many  of  the  chiefs 
and  the  rank  and  file  ties  of  strongest  attachment  that 
have  not  waned  in  all  the  lapse  of  time.  Not  a  few  of 
the  ex-warriors  now  dwelling  in  comfort  and  contentment 
upon  their  allotments  learned  long  ago  after  a  fashion  to 
write  a  mixed  Indian  and  English  dialect  and  have  preserved 
in  an  unbroken  correspondence  throughout  all  the  interven¬ 
ing  years  with  Mr.  Babb,  who  both  speaks  and  writes  the 
Indian  language  with  the  fluency  and  ease  of  a  Comanche. 

It  has  also  been  a  fixed  custom  of  Mr.  Babb  to  make 
visits  at  regular  intervals  to  many  of  his  old  surviving 


captors,  and  is  received  and  entertained  by  them  with  an 
almost  unexampled  joy  and  hospitality  and  perhaps  more 
so  than  if  he  were  one  of  their  tribal  kin  and  brethren.  In 
fact  the  Comanches  have  all  along  regarded  him  as  the  son 
of  their  rightful  adoption  and  when  the  big  Fort  Sill  res¬ 
ervation  was  being  made  ready  for  allotment  and  settlement 
Mr.  Babb  was  urged  by  Chief  Quanah  Parker  and  each 
and  subordinates  to  qualify  for  allotments  for  himself 
member  of  his  family  in  common  with  the  Comanche  and 
Kiowa  Indians.  In  all  their  dealings  with  the  United  States 
government  and  in  all  important  tribal  questions  and  affairs, 
whether  business,  domestic,  or  social,  the  counsel  and 
advice  of  Mr.  Babb  has  been  sought  and  freely  given,  as 
he  has  ever  been  their  steadfast  friend  and  co-worker.  In 
their  relations  there  have  been  the  same  mutual  confidence 
and  reciprocal  esteem  and  sympathy  that  obtain  in  the  better 
forms  of  civilized  society. 

Mr.  Babb  is  therefore  doubly  unique  in  his  dual  adap¬ 
tability  to  Indian  life  and  tradition  and  to  the  best  business 
and  social  life  as  found  in  the  higher  circles  of  substantial, 
refined,  and  enlightened  men  and  women.  It  can  hardly 
be  said  that  any  man  living  to-day  is  equipped  with  the  same 
experience,  observation,  and  knowledge  and  can  speak  so 
authoritatively  of  the  Indian  era  of  Texas,  the  old  Indian 
Territory,  and  the  Southwest  as  Mr.  Babb.  Therefore 
the  narrative  of  Mr.  Babb,  replete  with  deepest  human 
interest  and  much  pathos,  and  descriptive  of  expiditions 
of  war  and  savage  fury,  as  well  as  of  the  latter  life  of  the 
subdued  Iiidian,  with  his  crimson  tomahawk  discarded 
forever,  is  the  truest  link  yet  formed  between  the  Indian  and 
civilization.  As  the  Indian,  America’s  first  great  settler, 
with  such  biographers  and  interpreters  of  his  life,  exploits, 
and  character  as  Mr.  Babb,  is  now  essaying  his  role  in  the 
closing  scene  of  the  last  contemporaneous  drama,  Mr.  Babb’s 
realistic  portrayal,  is  nothing  short  of  a  noteworthy  con¬ 
tribution  to  the  best  Indian  archives  and  an  ampler  appre- 


ciation  of  one  of  the  stirring  epochs  of  a  nation;  and  as 
such  it  is  dedicated  to  the  entertainment  and  edification 
of  the  generations  of  to-day  and  those  to  follow. 

Albert  Sidney  Stinnett, 

Editor  and  Biographer. 


JAMES  W.  BABB,  Dot  Babb’s  Grandfather 


Dot  Babb  and  his  horse,  Old  Coley 


In  the  Bosom  of  the  Comanches 


My  name  is  Theodore  Adolphus  Babb,  better  known 
as  Dot  Babb.  I  was  born  May  17th,  1852,  near  Reeds- 
burg  in  Saurk  County,  Wisconsin,  to  which  place  my  father 
emigrated  from  Ohio  in  an  early  day.  In  1854  my  father 
and  his  family  consisting  of  my  mother  and  brother,  Her¬ 
nandez  Cortez  Babb  and  myself  entered  upon  the  long 
journey  to  Texas.  We  traveled  the  entire  distance  in  a 
two-horse  wagon,  and  were  twelve  months  on  the  road. 
Our  first  stop  in  Texas  was  in  Grayson  County  near  Sher¬ 
man.  About  one  year  later  our  family  moved  in  ox  wagons 
to  what  was  known  as  Dry  creek  in  Wise  County,  about 
twelve  miles  West  of  Decatur,  Texas.  My  earliest  definite 
recollections  were  in  our  new  home  on  Dry  creek.  There 
were  but  few  white  people  in  that  section  at  that  time, 
but  the  Indians  were  numerous.  These  Indians  were  then 
friendly,  and  remained  so  until  fugitive  outlaws  and  ren¬ 
egades  from  other  states  commenced  killing  and  stealing  their 
ponies,  and  also  killing  the  Indians  who  undertook  to  recover 
their  ponies.  The  Indians  at  length  decided  to  strike 
'  back,  and  putting  all  the  white  people  in  the  same  class 
commenced  their  depredations  upon  the  white  settlers 
generally  about  the  time  of  the  breaking  out  of  the  Civil 
War.  This  caused  the  state  of  Texas  to  place  its  rangers 
on  the  western  border  from  the  Indian  Territory  to  Mexico, 
and  ample  protection  was  offered  up  to  the  close  of  the  war 
between  the  states,  at  which  time  the  southern  soldier  was 
disarmed  and  the  state  government  turned  over  to  an  alien 
militia  concentrated  at  the  state  capital  and  other  centers 


20 


In  thf  Bosom  of  thf  Comanchks 


of  population.  The  border  settlers  had  but  little  if  any 
protection  from  that  time  and  the  Indians  became  cruelly 
savage,  killing  and  scalping  whole  families,  taking  children 
into  captivity,  stealing  horses,  and  engaging  in  all  manner 
of  barbaric  practices  and  deeds. 

In  the  Spring  of  1865  my  father,  Jno.  S.  Babb,  and  my 
older  brother,  H.  C.  Babb,  started  out  with  a  drove  of 
cattle  from  the  markets  of  Arkansas,  leaving  mother,  me, 
and  two  sisters  at  home.  My  oldest  sister  was  nine  years 
old,  my  baby  sister  eleven  months,  and  I  about  thirteen 
years  old.  There  was  also  making  her  home  with  us  a 
Mrs.  Luster,  about  twenty-two  years  old,  whose  husband 
was  killed  in  the  Civil  War.  There  were  two  other  families 
living  on  our  place,  and  all  were  within  three  or  four  hun¬ 
dred  yards  of  each  other.  One  of  the  families,  Harbolt 
by  name,  had  several  boys,  some  of  whom  became  notorious 
outlaws  in  later  years,  and  many  old  timers  will  recall  the 
name  of  Jim  Harbolt  as  a  terrible  bandit  of  the  darkest  days 
of  the  Indian  Territory. 

The  other  family  was  that  of  the  widow  Estes  and  her 
several  children. 

About  the  middle  of  September,  1865,  between  three 
and  four  o’clock  in  the  afternoon,  my  eldest  sister  and  I 
were  at  play  when  we  discovered  thirty-five  or  forty  Com¬ 
anche  Indians  in  all  the  regalia  and  war  paint  of  the  savage 
warrior.  Stupified  with  fright  we  looked  again  and  realized 
that  they  were  advancing  rapidly  upon  us,  and  with  quick¬ 
ened  heart-beats  we  wondered  what  our  fate  would  be  at 
the  hands  of  these  emissaries  of  murderous  implacable  hate. 
We  soon  saw  they  would  raid  our  home,  and  with  their 
weird  and  unearthly  war  hoops  ringing  in  our  ears  we  ran 
to  the  house  for  the  protection  of  mother  and  Mrs.  Luster, 
who  had  also  seen  and  heard  the  demons  approaching. 
Mother  had  us  enter  the  house  as  quickly  as  possible  and 


In  the  Bosom  of  the  Comanches 


21 


closed  the  unbarricaded  doors.  It  would  be  indeed  impos¬ 
sible  to  describe  the  emotions  of  horror  that  possessed  all 
of  us  in  this  moment  of  fatal  doom  and  peril.  There  was 
no  time  for  either  lamentation  or  prayer  with  our  help¬ 
lessness  accentuated  by  the  lack  of  every  means  of  defense; 
and  justifiable  premonitions  of  death  were  proclaimed  in 
our  tremulous  voices  and  fear-distorted  faces.  An  eternity 
of  horror  crowded  into  a  moment  of  insufferable  suspense 
for  unprotected  and  undefended  women  and  children, 
confronted  by  merciless  and  remorseless  savages  whose 
known  acts  and  lives  were  records  of  treachery  and  blood. 

Mrs.  Luster  undertook  to  conceal  herself  in  the  loft  of 


JOHN  S.  BABB 

Father  of  Dot  Babb.  Born  1810,  Died  1880. 


22 


In  the;  Bosom  oe'  the;  Comanche;s 


the  log  cabin  and  I  made  for  two  or  three  old  guns  in  their 
racks  on  the  wall.  Simultaneousely  several  of  the  Indians 
broke  open  the  door  and  as  I  would  seize  a  gun  they  would 
take  it  from  me  and  belabor  me  over  the  head  with  their 
quirts.  My  mother  was  trying  to  soften  or  make  friends 
by  shaking  hands  with  them,  and  against  these  overtures 
they  were  as  surlily  obdurate  and  unmoved  as  ever  these 
ruthless  slayers  had  been  painted.  The  first  thing  in  their 
diabolical  performances  was  to  plunder  our  home  and  take 
off  everything  in  the  way  of  clothing  and  bedding.  They 
then  had  Mrs.  Luster  come  down  from  her  hiding  in  the 
loft  and  she  was  bound  by  some  Indians  and  taken  outside 
to  the  other  Indians  and  their  horses  and  there  declared 
a  captive.  The  remainder  of  the  Indians  in  the  house 
seized  my  oldest  sister  and  started  off  with  her.  My  mother, 
prompted  by  an  uncontrollable  maternal  instinct  and  affec¬ 
tion,  interfered  and  clung  to  my  sister  in  an  effort  to  prevent 
her  being  taken,  and  as  she  did  one  of  the  Indians  stabbed 
my  mother  four  times  with  a  big  butcher  knife.  They 
then  took  my  sister  from  the  house  and  made  captive  of 
her  also,  along  with  Mrs.  Luster.  Seeing  my  mother 
brutally  and  fatally  stabbed  I  assisted  her  to  the  bed  just 
as  two  of  the  Indians  came  back,  and  not  finding  my  mother 
dead  as  they  expected,  one  of  them  with  drawn  bow  shot 
her  in  the  left  side  with  an  arrow  that  ranged  up  toward 
her  lungs.  I  pulled  the  arrow  out  and  sat  upon  the  bed  by 
her,  doing  all  I  could  to  console  and  comfort  her  as  her 
strength  and  life  waned.  The  same  Indian  drew  his  bow  and 
pointed  a  deadly  arrow  at  me  and  commanded  me  to  go  with 
him.  Mother,  seeing  that  I  too  would  be  killed  if  I  resisted 
or  refused,  said,  “Go  with  him  and  be  a  good  boy.” 
One  of  them  then  grabbed  me  by  the  arm  and  jerked  me 
off  the  bed,  and  as  he  dragged  me  towards  the  door  the 
other  Indian  pounded  me  with  his  quirt.  In  this  miserable 


In  thf  Bosom  of  the;  Comanches 


23 


OMERCAWBEY  (Walking  Face)  Nephew  of  Chief  Horse  Back 
A  very  desperate  Indian  who  shot  my  mother  with  arrows  at  the  time  she  was 
killed  and  I  captured.  I  never  saw  him  afterwards,  but  understood  later 
that  he  had  been  shot  to  death. — Dot  Babb 


24 


In  the;  Bosom  ot  the;  Comanche;s 


plight  I  was  forcibly  separated  from  my  mother,  dying  in 
a  mass  of  blood,  with  my  baby  sister  enclasped  within  her 
arms. 

Here  in  a  time  of  trustful  security,  as  the  light  laughter 
of  playing  children  mingled  with  the  songs  of  birds,  and 
love  and  joy  unconfined  rioted  in  the  fondest  and  most 
sacred  family  ties,  in  a  few  terrible  moments  was  written 
in  blood  a  chapter  of  human  bitterness  and  sorrow  at  which 
all  civilization  and  mankind  would  stand  aghast.  A  home 
rent  asunder,  a  mother  sacrificed  in  anguishing  torture 
and  death  upon  the  altar  of  dutiful  devotion  and  purposeful 
life,  a  young  woman  and  a  youthful  son  and  daughter  torn 
from  the  family  roof-tree  to  be  carried  into  the  unknown 
wilds  and  the  forbidding  and  darkest  realms  of  the  fiercest 
and  most  unrelenting  savage  barbarians  that  ever  trod 
the  earth,  an  unrestrained,  inhuman,  savage  debauchery 
crying  aloud  for  the  intervention  and  mercies  of  God  and 
man. 

When  they  got  outside  with  me  I  saw  my  sister  and 
Mrs.  Luster  mounted  on  horses,  each  with  an  Indian  in 
front  of  her  on  the  same  horse,  thus  riding  in  double 
fashion.  I  was  placed  on  a  horse  in  a  similar  manner,  with 
my  hands  tightly  held  by  my  Indian  riding  mate.  The 
plunder  taken  frcm  my  home  had  been  securely  fastened 
on  the  pack  animals,  and  with  the  three  captives,  con¬ 
sisting  of  my  sister,  Mrs.  Luster,  and  myself,  the  cavalcade, 
without  ceremony,  but  with  much  solemnity,  fear  and 
sorrow  upon  the  part  of  the  captives,  hastily  moved  off  the 
premises.  When  we  had  gone  about  half  a  mile  we  came 
upon  several  of  my  father’s  horses  grazing  upon  the  common. 
The  Indians  selected  some  of  the  younger  of  these  horses, 
which  they  drove  along  with  the  other  horses  they  had  seized 
or  stolen  and  then  took  a  route  up  Dry  creek  right  through 
where  the  town  of  Chico  is  now  located,  thence  northwest, 


In  thf  Bosom  of  the:  Comanchks 


25 


BLACK  HAWK  AND  SQUAW. 
Severe  Fighter  in  the  Indian  Days 


26 


In  thu  Bosom  ou  Thu  Comanchus 


V 


pushing  onward  after  nightfall  and  only  stopping  two  or 
three  times  the  entire  night  for  short  intervals  of  rest.  By 
nine  o’clock  the  next  morning  we  were  out  of  the  cross 
timbers  and  into  an  open  plains  country.  Fearing  pursuit 
it  was  a  custom  of  the  Indians  returning  from  a  raid  with 
captives,  stolen  horses,  and  other  booty  to  undergo  fatigue, 
hunger,  and  all  manner  of  privation  and  to  exert  themselves 
and  horses  to  the  point  of  exhaustion  to  get  beyond  the  line 
the  white  settlers  would  venture  to  follow.  Therefore,  for 
many  hours  the  Indians  gave  us  but  little  rest  and  neither 
food  nor  sleep,  but  pressed  onward  persistently  and  swiftly. 

We  at  length  reached  the  Little  Wichita  river,  which 
was  swollen  by  recent  floods  to  brimming  bank  full;  but  the 
Indians  found  a  big  accumulation  of  drift,  on  which  we 
crossed  dismounted,  the  horses  being  made  to  swim  the 
river.  The  first  thing  we  had  to  eat  during  the  many  hours 
since  setting  out  on  this  unwilling,  mournful  journey  was 
after  we  had  crossed  the  Little  Wichita  river  and  reached 
Holiday  creek,  about  eighteen  miles  southwest  from  the 
site  of  the  present  city  of  Wichita  Falls.  This  feast  was 
the  remains  of  a  big  steer  that  the  lobo  wolves  had  freshly 
slain  and  of  which  they  had  eaten  both  hams  as  was  their 
custom.  From  here  we  proceeded  to  the  Big  Wichita  river 
which  we  crossed  just  below  the  mouth  of  Beaver  creek, 
and  this  course  was  kept  until  we  reached  Red  river  that 
afternoon  about  sunset  at  a  point  a  little  below  the  mouth 
of  Pease  river.  Being  now  comparatively  safe  from  pursuit, 
the  Indians  halted  with  us  for  three  days  and  four  nights, 
and  during  the  time  they  took  rest  and  also  nursed  a  wound¬ 
ed  Indian  who  had  been  shot  with  a  bullet  through  the  right 
knee  in  a  skirmish  that  they  had  with  settlers  before  they 
reached  and  devastated  our  home.  In  this  particular  raid 
they  encountered  stubborn  resistance  and  had  four  or  five 
severe  fights  up  to  the  time  of  attacking  our  lamented  home 


In  thp;  Bosom  op*  thp;  Comanches 


27 


and  family.  In  the  first  of  these  fights  they  killed  two 
white  men  and  two  negroes  on  Carroll’s  creek,  south  of 
Jacksboro,  Texas,  and  in  the  fights  that  followed  with  the 
Owens,  Higgins,  and  Armstrongs,  they  had  slain  four  of 
their  warriors,  but  they  managed  to  carry  off  three  of  their 
dead  and  only  left  one  to  be  scalped  by  the  whites. 

The  next  fight  was  with  Ben  Blanton,  Glen  Halsell  and 
Lansing  Hunt.  These  men  were  working  for  Dan  Waggoner, 
and  had  penned  some  cattle  that  they  might  brand  the  calves 
at  the  old  Thorn  place  about  three  miles  southeast  of  our 
home.  There  was  a  famliy  living  on  the  old  Thorn  place  by 
the  name  of  Couch,  but  the  man,  or  head  of  the  family,  was 
not  at  home  and  the  three  men  were  busy  branding  out  in 
the  corrals  when  the  Indians  charged  them.  The  men  ran 
to  the  house  where  Mrs.  Couch  and  two  little  children  were 
and  prepared  for  a  stubborn  defense.  The  Indians  attacked 
fiercely  and  time  and  again  were  driven  back  by  the  deadly 
aim  of  the  three  men  besieged  in  the  house.  The  Indians, 
after  having  two  of  their  number  killed  and  one  wounded  in 
the  knee  became  discouraged  and  withdrew,  taking  with 
them  several  horses  and  bridles  and  also  their  dead.  Ac¬ 
cording  to  Indian  superstition  there  would  be  direful  con¬ 
sequences  if  they  failed  to  carry  their  dead  off  the  battle¬ 
field,  and  this  they  never  failed  to  do  unless  in  unpreventable 
and  exceptional  cases.  Their  next  attack  was  upon  our 
home  and  in  manner  and  results  previously  detailed. 

Resuming  the  course  of  the  flight  of  the  Indians  with 
their  captives  and  loot,  following  the  three  days  rest  with 
the  wounded  Indian  on  the  south  bank  of  Red  river,  they 
crossed  Red  river,  taking  a  northwesterly  course  and  cross¬ 
ing  the  North  Fork  of  the  Red  river  at  the  mouth  of 
Stinking  creek  in  what  is  now  known  as  Greer  County,  Okla¬ 
homa.  Continuing  they  went  by  Headquarters  mountain 
and  stayed  all  night,  and  next  morning  we  crossed  North 


28 


In  the  Bosom  oe  the  Comanches 


Fork  again  and  thus  gained  the  northeast  side  of  that  stream 
and  kept  a  northwest  course  until  we  stopped  on  the  Washita 
river  the  next  night.  Keeping  a  northwesterly  course  we 
reached  the  Canadian  river  at  the  end  of  another  hard  day’s 
travel,  and  on  its  banks  they  pitched  their  camp  for  the 
night.  Here  in  the  night’s  repose  Mrs.  Luster  and  I  made 
our  first  desperate  attempt  to  escape  from  captivity.  Mrs. 
Luster  laid  the  plans  and  directed  me  during  the  day  to 
be  sure  and  fasten  a  certain  fine  horse  so  he  could  not  get 
far  away  and  that  there  was  a  mare  that  would  stay  with 
him.  These  two  animals  were  stolen  on  this  raid  from  our 
neighbors,  the  Owens.  I  secured  the  knot  of  the  rope  on 
this  horse  between  two  limbs.  In  making  the  beds  for  the 
night  they  made  one  which  they  had  Mrs.  Luster,  sister  and 
me  occupy,  and  the  Indians  then  slept  around  us.  I  was 
so  tired  I  went  to  sleep  and  did  not  wake  till  Mrs.  Luster 
nudged  me  into  wakefulness  about  one  o’clock  in  the  morn¬ 
ing.  The  moon  in  the  east  was  two  hours  high  and  the 
Indians  all  were  sleeping  soundly. 

We  realized  we  were  about  to  embark  upon  a  perilous 
undertaking,  but  in  our  desperation  we  were  quite  resigned 
to  the  consequences.  As  I  viewed  these  savages,  asleep  and 
contemplated  the  cruel  faces  half  lighted  by  the  moon’s  rays 
that  filtered  through  the  leaves  of  the  trees,  the  scene  and 
the  predicament  thrilled  me  with  a  sense  of  indescribable 
horror.  Mrs  Luster  and  I  stole  noiselessly  from  our  bunk 
upon  the  ground  and  with  cat-like  stealth  tip-toed  to  the 
horses.  Mrs.  Luster  found  a  bridle  and  this  we  put  on  the 
horse  previously  secured  and  led  him  to  a  log  from  which 
she  could  mount.  Mrs.  Luster  then  whispered  to  me  to  get 
a  bridle  for  the  mare  I  was  to  ride.  I  got  the  bridle  but 
the  Indians  awoke  before  I  could  get  the  bridle  on  the  mare 
and  came  running  towards  us.  Meantime  Mrs.  Luster  had 
mounted  and  I  told  her  to  get  away  if  she  could,  whereupon 


In  thf  Bosom  of  thf  Comanchks 


29 


BLACK  HAWK,  Old-Time  Indian  Warrior. 


30 


In  the  Bosom  os'  the:  Comanches 


she  bade  me  good-bye  and  with  the  stillness  and  swiftness 
of  a  shadow  disappeared  into  the  night.  I  threw  the  bridle 
away  and  turned  back  and  in  this  way  for  the  time  being 
disarmed  the  suspicion  of  the  Indians  who  had  been  aroused 
and  noting  my  absence  started  in  pursuit.  Upon  returning 
I  laid  down  and  could  sleep  no  more  for  thinking  and  won¬ 
dering  what  they  would  do  to  me  for  trying  to  escape  and 
it  seemed  an  age  before  day  dawned  once  more. 

It  was  fully  an  hour  after  my  return  before  they  dis¬ 
covered  that  Mrs.  Luster  had  escaped  and  then  eight  or  ten 

i 

Indians  entered  excitedly  upon  her  pursuit.  At  length  day¬ 
light  came  and  all  the  Indians  got  up  and  the  ones  who  had 
gone  on  a  fruitless  search  for  Mrs.  Luster  came  back.  They 
waked  my  little  sister  and  had  her  get  up  and  then  all 
formed  a  line  and  one  of  them  took  and  stood  me  against 
a  big  cotton  wood  tree.  They  took  their  bows  and  arrows 
and  some  old  cap  and  ball  pistols  and  were  in  line  some 
twenty  or  thirty  yards  from  me  and  the  one  who  had  con¬ 
ducted  me  to  the  tree  made  signs  to  me  that  they  were 
going  to  riddle  me  with  bullets  and  arrows  and  then  take  my 
scalp  and  have  a  big  war  dance  over  it.  Here  again  my 
whole  past  life  came  into  instant  review  and  in  the  proces¬ 
sion  of  events  that  quickly  passed  were  visions  of  kindred, 
boyhood  scenes  of  joy  and  sorrow  and  the  woeful  and  pathetic 
face  of  my  lamented  mother,  stricken  and  dying  from  the 
deadly  knife-thrusts  and  arrows  of  my  fiendish  captors.  My 
little  nine-year-old  sister  being  made  to  look  on  the  line 
of  warriors  with  guns  and  bows  and  arrows  trained  on  me 
burst  forth  into  paroxysms  of  wailing  cries  and  sobbings. 
In  this  moment  of  doom  I  spoke  to  her  in  quieting,  endear¬ 
ing  terms,  and  when  she  thought  the  next  instant  would  be 
my  last  she  fell  upon  the  ground  and.  hid  her  face.  I  was 
sure  they  were  going  to  kill  me,  and  wanting  the  scene 
closed  I  made  signs  to  shoot  and  end  my  unbearable  sus- 


In  the  Bosom  of  the  Comanches 


31 


MRS.  J.  D.  BELL,  Sister  of  Dot  Babb. 

Taken  into  captivity  by  the  Comanche  Indians  with  Dot,  as  related  in  this  book. 
Mrs.  Bell,  with  her  husband  and  six  children,  resides  at  Denton,  Texas. 


32 


In  the;  Bosom  of  the;  Comanche:s 


pense.  When  I  did  this,  several  of  the  Indians  relaxed  their 
drawn  weapons  and  thrust  themselves  between  me  and  the 
line  of  executioners;  and  then  all  the  Indians  came  up  and 
pushed  the  impulsive  defenders  aside  and  took  a  raw-hide 
rope  and  tied  me  to  a  tree.  They  then  pulled  long  dead 
grass  and  collected  a  lot  of  dry  brush  from  the  nearby  trees 
and  placed  all  around  me,  preparatory  to  cremating  me  alive, 
and  during  all  this  time  my  sister’s  cries  broke  the  solitudes 
of  these  savage  wilds.  They  had  no  matches,  but  used 
flint  and  steel  in  making  fires;  and  the  flint  and  steel  they 
placed  by  the  grass  and  brush  piled  about  me  and  over 
me,  and  then  held  what  seemed  a  last  council.  Being  more 
than  ever  tired  of  these  preliminaries  I  made  signs  to  them 


Nov.  28,  1911. 

Mr.  A.  S.  Stinnett: 

Your  letter  of  recent  date  has  not  been  answered  promptly  on 
account  of  my  absence  as  a  delegate  to  the  Peace  Conference  in 
Rome,  Italy.  I  knew  the  Babb  family  well  in  Wise  County  many 
years  ago,  and  I  introduced  and  now  have  pending  in  the  House  of 
Representatives  a  bill  to  refund  to  them  the  value  of  the  property 
destroyed,  burned  and  carried  away  by  the  Comanche  Indians  when 
Dot  Babb,  then  a  boy,  and  his  sister  Bianca,  were  captured  and 
carried  off  by  the  Indians,  and  their  home  burned  and  part  of  the 
family  killed,  etc.  I  have  never  been  able  to  get  this  bill  through 
because  there  are  hundreds  of  similar  cases  and  this  bill,  if  passed, 
would  open  the  door  for  all  similar  cases.  I  have  also  a  general 
bill  now  pending  in  Congress  that  would  cover  this  and  all  similar 
cases,  by  permitting  the  claimant  to  bring  suit  in  the  Court  of 
Claims  against  the  U.  S.  Government,  for  the  value  of  their  prop¬ 
erty;  and  hope  to  get  it  through  at  the  coming  session  of  Con¬ 
gress.  Bianca  Babb  (one  of  the  prisoners)  is  now  the  wife  of  Mr. 
J.  D.  Bell,  of  Denton,  Texas,  and  the  claim  of  Dot  Babb  and  herself 
has  been  fully  proven  by  affidavits  filed  by  me  with  the  Comm'ttee 
on  Indian  Affairs  (of  which  I  am  now  the  chairman),  and  I  have 
no  doubt  of  their  justice  or  the  truth  of  their  statements,  and  I  shall 
do  everything  in  my  power  to  aid  them  in  recovering  the  value  of 
the  property  destroyed,  etc.,  but  not  for  their  personal  injuries  or 
imprisonment  or  for  the  death  of  other  members  of-  the  family,  as 
there  is  no  precedent  for  such  action  of  Congress,  and  at  this  late 
date  it  would  be  utterly  useless  to  ask  for  such  damages. 

Yours  very  truly, 

Jno.  H.  Stephens. 


In  the  Bosom  oe  the  Comanches 


33 


CONGRESSMAN  JOHN  H.  STEPHENS 


34 


In  thf  Bosom  of  thf  Comanchfs 


to  fire  the  grass,  but  instead  of  doing  so  they  all  came  for¬ 
ward  saying,  “Heap  wano  you,”  and  untied  me. 

I  afterwards  learned  from  them  that  my  seeming  total 
lack  of  fear  and  utter  defiance  of  the  most  painful  of 
deaths  evidenced  the  qualities  and  courage  needful  in  a 
warrior,  and  as  such  they  spared  my  life  and  attached  or 
adopted  me  as  a  prospective  militant  tribesman.  Seeing 
the  pall  of  death  lifted  from  me,  my  little  sister  embraced 
me  and  wept  for  joy.  The  next  step  was  to  take  up  the 
trail  and  recapture  Mrs.  Luster,  in  whose  escape  the  previous 
night  I  had  assisted,  for  which  I  so  nearly  forfeited  my  life. 
Mrs.  Luster  was  a  young  widow  of  attractive  person,  and 
a  sub-chief  directing  the  maurading  band  that  captured  us 
saw  and  was  conquered  by  Mrs.  Luster’s  beauty  at  the  time 
of  the  attack  on  our  home  and  instantly  resolved  to  take 
her  along  as  the  favorite  of  the  miscellaneous  collection  of 
squaws  attached  to  his  camp.  As  would  be  the  case  with 
any  refined  woman,  Mrs.  Luster  looked  with  abhorrence  and 
loathing  upon  this  enforced  union  with  a  Comanche  warrior 
without  warrant  or  ceremony  other  than  the  savage  decree, 
and  the  cruel  circumstances  that  made  her  the  helpless 
victim  of  an  unspeakable  violation,  humiliation,  and  invol¬ 
untary  debasement.  '  The  other  Indian  braves  concurred 
complacently,  as  their  tribal  custom  scrupulously  respected 
the  exclusive  rights  and  ownership  of  the  chief  to  his 
latest  appropriation  of  a  fair  pale-faced  mate.  This  Lothario 
of  the  forest  and  plain,  failing  in  his  avenging  designs  upon 
my  life  as  atoning  for  the  escape  of  his  white  princess,  who 
on  the  fleetest  horse  of  all  the  camp  had  sped  away  as  if  on 
the  shadowy  wings  of  the  night,  was  in  no  temper  to  accept 
resignedly  his  destressing  loss.  The  sun  had  now  risen,  and 
summoning  one  of  the  most  alert  and  daring  horsemen  of 
the  tribe  as  his  assistant,  two  of  the  swiftest  horses  were 
mounted  and  the  trail  taken  up  in  determined  pursuit  of 


In  thk  Bosom  of  thf  Comanchks 


35 


INDIAN  WARRIORS 

Tom  Blackstar  (sitting),  son  of  great  warrior.  Charley  Mumcyki  (standing), 

descended  from  fierce  chiefs. 


36 


In  the  Bosom  oe  the  Comanches 


the  fleeing  prize.  For  some  distance  the  fresh  tracks  pointed 
the  way  but  at  length  it  was  found  she  had  doubled  back, 
crossed,  and  re-crossed  on  a  trail,  finally  disappearing  in  the 
quicksand  bed  of  a  wide  shallow  stream.  Bewildered  and 
exhausted  the  pursuit  was  abandoned  and  the  dispirited 
chief  rejoined  his  band,  conscious  that  the  ardently  coveted 
quarry  was  forever  lost  to  him.  Mrs.  Luster  was  a  daring 
horsewoman  and  equally  at  home  whether  in  the  track¬ 
less  forests  or  the  unknown  prairies. 

The  third  day  following  her  escape  she  halted  that  her 
horse  might  rest  and  graze  and  being  insufferably  fatigued 
she  fell  into  a  deep  sleep.  Thus  off  her  guard  she  was  dis¬ 
covered  and  captured  by  three  Kiowa  Indians  who  took  her 
to  their  main  camp  many  miles  distant  and  again  she  was 
made  the  consort  of  an  Indian  and  this  time  a  Kiowa  chief. 
Mrs.  Luster  was  thus  made  to  suffer  an  excruciating  penalty 
for  her  captivating  personal  charm  and  beauty.  She  was 
about  twenty-two  years  old  and  a  shapely  vivacious  brunette 
at  the  very  climax  of  a  vigorous  young  womanhood,  and  in 
her  captivity  had  she  willed  it  she  could  have  become  the 
idol  of  the  warrior  chiefs  and  the  reigning  queen  of  either 
the  Comanche  or  Kiowa  tribes.  If  she  had  read  the  frightful 
horoscope  in  which  was  foreordained  the  death  of  her  brother 
and  her  husband  in  the  Civil  War  and  her  captivity  and 
maltreatment  that  followed,  she  doubtless  would  have  pre¬ 
ferred  the  forfeit  of  her  life  to  the  terrible  ordeal.  However, 
the  fates  decreed,  with  invincible  will  she  yielded  not. 

Within  thirty  days  after  her  adoption  into  the  Kiowa 
tribe,  during  which  period  she  kept  tensest  vigil  day  and 
night,  she  found  and  embraced  the  means  of  her  effectual 
and  final  escape  from  savage  captors,  and  return  to  the 
welcoming  ranks  of  civilization  something  like  eight  hundred 
miles  in  an  opposite  direction  from  that  in  which  her  unwill¬ 
ing,  perilous,  and  distressful  journey  began.  The  Kiowas 


In  the;  Bosom  of  the;  ComanchFs 


37 


would  turn  loose  all  their  horses  at  night  to  graze,  except 
one  to  be  ridden  the  next  morning  in  rounding  up  the  herd. 
For  one  long  weary  month  Mrs.  Luster  kept  a  keen  vigil 
for  an  opportune  moment  to  slip  away,  and  at  length  one 
-dark  stormy  night  it  came.  As  the  Indians  slept  Mrs. 
Luster  between  midnight  and  .dawn  mounted  the  horse  kept 
at  the  camp  and  once  more  essayed  the  daring  dash  for 
liberty;  a  dash,  though  imposing  almost  unbearable  hard¬ 
ship  and  suffering,  this  time  to  be  crowned  with  triumphant 
success.  The  deluge  of  rain  in  which  she  sped  over  the 
pathless  wild  obliterated  the  tracks  of  her  fleeing  horse, 
making  fruitless  all  efforts  at  pursuit  and  her  escape  secure. 

The  next  day,  as  she  drifted  along  without  definite  course 
or  aim  other  than  a  determined  flight  from  her  bondsmen 
and  the  chance  upon  an  unknown  fate  and  destination,  she 
mistook  some  United  States  soldiers  for  Indians  in  pursuit, 
and  in  a  desperate  effort  to  get  away  she  undertook  to  out¬ 
ride  them.  The  soldiers  mistook  her  for  an  Indian  and 
gave  lively  chase,  catching  up  with  and  capturing  her  at 
the  end  of  a  twenty-mile  record  run  under  whip  and  spur. 
There  was  much  mutual  surprise  and  gratification  when 
indentities  were  established,  and  the  rejoicings  on  both  sides 
were  unconfined.  Though  they  were  strangers,  Mrs.  Luster 
soon  related  her  harrowing  story.  It  evoked  the  deepest 
sympathy  from  the  soldiers,  who  were  lavish  in  the  kind¬ 
nesses  and  courtesies  extended  her.  The  soldiers  afforded 
her  a  safe  escort  to  Council  Grove,  Kansas,  at  that  time  one 
of  the  nearest  outposts  of  civilization,  and  here  she  took  up 
her  temporary  abode.  Being  young  and  attractive,  she  was 
soon  married  to  a  Mr.  Van  Noy,  and  subsequently  the 
couple  established  a  permanent  home  in  Galena,  Kansas, 
where  she  died  in  the  month  of  April,  1904.  It  is  not  in 
all  the  annals  of  romance  or  realism  where  a  woman  was 
made  the  victim  of  more  miserable  circumstances.  While 


38 


In  the;  Bosom  ot  the;  Comanche;s 


one  shudders  at  the  chapter  of  horror,  a  lively  satisfaction 
is  experienced  in  the  knowledge  that  she  regained  her  equa¬ 
nimity  and  spent  the  last  and  longest  span  of  her  eventful 
life  not  in  the  mood  -of  brooding  bitter  memories,  but  in 
the  atmosphere  and  spirit  of  serene  repose,  reciprocal  happi¬ 
ness  and  affection.  The  cruel  inhuman  massacre  of  my 
mother  and  the  inexpressible  abuses  and  sorrows  of  Mrs. 
Luster  are  impressive  illustrations  of  the  sacrifices  and  perils 
of  the  pioneer  women  of  the  Texas  frontiers.  That  they 
faced  and  met  these  dangers  and  the  attendant  direful  con¬ 
sequences  with  unflinching  and  unwavering  fortitude  are 
sufficient  themes  for  every  eulogly  or  tribute  that  could 
be  perpetuated  in  imperishable  marble  or  expressed  in  the 
best  eloquence  of  speech  or  pen  of  all  grateful  and  patriotic 
men  and  women  now  and  for  ever  more. 

The  morning  after  the  flight  of  Mrs.  Luster,  and  my 
narrow  escape  from  the  infliction  of  death,  the  Indians 
broke  camp,  and  after  dividing  themselves  into  several 
groups  they  proceeded  upon  their  march  in  different  di¬ 
rections.  One  group  took  my  little  sister,  whom  I  did  not 
see  again  until  we  met  at  Fort  Arbuckle,  Indian  Territory 
(since  included  in  the  state  of  Oklahoma),  some  two  years 
later.  There  were  eight  Indians  in  the  group  to  which  I 
was  attached  and  it  took  us  ten  days  to  reach  the  head¬ 
quarters  camp  or  Indian  village  on  the  Arkansas  river.  On 
this  last  leg  of  our  long  journey  we  had  to  walk  most  of  the 
way,  as  the  horses  were  so  nearly  exhausted  they  had  not 
the  strength  to  carry  us.  At  the  headquarters  were  the 
squaws  and  the  children  living  in  tepees  scattered  along 
the  river,  a  distance  of  two  miles  or  more.  The  return  of  the 
braves  from  a  long  raid  was  made  the  occasion  of  much 
demonstration,  and  having  a  white  boy  captive  produced 
a  sensation  in  the  village.  The  Indian  boys  would  crowd 
around  and  point  toward  me  saying,  “Tibow  trousop  tibow”, 


In  the  Bosom  of  the  Comanches 


39 


and  this  I  soon  learned  signified  white  person.  As  is  well 
known,  the  squaws  did  all  the  manual  labor  and  camp  work 
generally,  such  as  setting  up  or  taking  down  and  moving 
the  tepees,  carrying  the  wood  and  water,  doing  the  cooking 


CHIEF  HORSE  BACK 

A  daring,  unconquerable  Comanche  Chief,  who  waged  relentless  war  and  con¬ 
ducted  more  murderous  raids  and  directed  more  horrible  massaces 
than  perhaps  any  other  leader  of  the  savages. 


40 


In  the  Bosom  oe  the  Comanches 


and  all  things  else.  Taking  advantage  of  my  helplessness 
and  ignorance,  they  made  me  help  them  in  these  unmanly 
menial  tasks  the  greater  part  of  the  first  winter.  At  length 
the  boys  and  the  young  men  informed  me  that  I  was  being 
imposed  upon  by  the  squaws  and  that  I  could  do  as  they 
did  and  let  the  squaws  do  everything -in  accordance  with  a 
time  honored  practice  and  custom.  I  therefore  asserted  my 
rights  and  forthwith  disavowed  these  domestic  tasks  and 
consumed  my  time  with  play  and  helping  care  for  the  horses. 
From  four  to  eight  families  would  group  their  horses 
together.  At  that  time  the  Comanches  had  collected  from 
frequent  raids  large  herds  of  horses  covering  every  variety 
from  gentle  work  stock  to  untamed  wild  bronchos.  I  joined 
the  Indian  boys  in  catching,  riding,  and  breaking  wild 
horses,  which  was  an  exciting  sport  and  an  excellent  pastime. 

On  horseback  we  chased  deer,  antelope,  and  buffalo 
and  made  frequent  kills  with  bows  and  arrows,  as  the  Indians 
then  had  but  few  guns.  In  the  main  our  food  was  buffalo 
meat,  but  sometimes  in  the  late  winter  when  buffalo  became 
poor  we  would  kill  and  eat  the  fattest  horse.  At  this  time 
the  Comanches  were  divided  into  four  different  bands  and 
were  headed  and  directed  by  four  different  chiefs.  The 
Xoconas  had  a  chief  by  name  of  Horseback,  and  his  brother 
Pernerney,  one  of  the  most  daring,  fierce  and  desperate 
Indians  that  ever  lived,  claimed  me  as  his  own.  He  had  an 
old  cap  and  ball  six-shooter,  and  one  day  he  loaded  it  and 
after  painting  himself  and  bedecking  his  hideous  person 
with  an  unusual  array  of  horns  and  feathers  he  had  me 
follow  him  into  the  sand  hills.  He  had  with  him  his  shield 
and  lance.  Mounted  on  his  fiery  horse  he  had  me  take  the 
six-shooter  and  told  me  when  he  charged  me  I  was  expected 
to  take  accurate  aim  and  shoot  at  his  body  and  when  he 
turned  his  back  on  the  retreat  I  was  expected  to  shoot  at 
his  back.  According  to  this  programme,  with  lance  in  hand 


In  the  Bosom  oe  the  Comanches 


41 


Indian  in  Full  Regalia 


42 


In  thp  Bosom  op  thp  Comanchps 


he  charged  me  and  retreated  from  me  four  times.  I  shot 
at  him  as  I  was  directed  to  do.  As  he  advanced  he  held 
his  shield  in  front,  and  as  he  turned  for  the  retreat  he  would 
swiftly  shift  the  shield  over  on  his  back.  I  shot  at  him 
six  times  and  hit  the  shield  each  time.  He  complimented 
my  accuracy  and  declared  I  would  make  a  trustworthy  war¬ 
rior.  The  shield  was  made  from  the  thick  skin  of  an  old 
buffalo  bull’s  neck,  and  was  fashioned  into  a  circular  cup¬ 
ping  shape  something  like  a  saucer.  It  was  covered  with 
heavy  buckskin  and  in  dimensions  about  two  feet  in  diameter. 
These  shields  were  practically  impenetrable.  Skillfully 
handled  by  the  Indians  as  they  were  from  long  practice  and 
usuage  they  afforded  great  protection,  and  many  an  Indian 
life  was  thus  saved  in  the  unequal  combat  between  the  Indian 
armed  with  bows  and  arrows  and  the  white  man  with  rifles 
and  revolvers. 

I  was  with  this  band  or  sub-division  of  the  Comanches 
about  sixteen  months.  During  the  time  fifteen  warriors 
took  me  and  headed  in  a  southeasterly  direction.  I  thought 
surely  they  were  bound  for  Texas  on  one  of  their  periodic 
raids,  and  I  was  elected  at  the  thought  of  getting  back  and 
finding  an  opportunity  to  detach  myself  from  my  savage 
captors.  I  was  especially  possessed  with  this  conviction 
inasmuch  as  our  mounts  were  carefully  chosen  and  our 
supply  of  arrows  unusually  heavy.  We  had  been  out  six 
days  when  we  reached  the  Washita  river,  and  surprised  seven 
Caddo  Indians  on  a  buffalo  chase.  These  Caddoes  were 
on  horseback  and  as  there  was  tribal  hostility  between  the 
Comanches  and  Caddoes  the  moment  they  saw  us  they 
fled  at  utmost  speed.  Pernerney,  our  chief,  gave  command, 
“Kill  all  of  them;  they  are  Caddoes.”  We  proceeded  to 
execute  the  command  and  soon  killed  the  entire  squad  of 
seven.  One  of  the  number  having  an  extra  good  mount  we 
had  to  chase  ten  or  twelve  miles  before  we  caught  up  with 


In  the  Bosom  of  the  Comanches 


43 


him.  There  were  only  three  of  our  party  at  the  end  of  the 
pursuit,  consisting  of  Pernerney,  his  brother  Tutchis-pooder, 
and  myself.  Pernerney,  being  in  the  lead,  was  the  first  to 
overtake  him  and  had  shot  him  twice,  from  the  effects  of 
which  he  had  fallen  from  his  horse  and  was  sitting  up  as  we 
all  approached.  Pernerney  handed  me  his  old  cap  and  ball 
pistol  and  commanded  me  to  shoot  him  in  the  head,  and  this 
I  did.  Tuchis-pooder  then  scalped  him,  and  we  took  his 
horse  and  saddle  and  left  him  lying  where  he  was  killed. 
Out  of  these  seven  Indians  slain,  six  were  scalped.  The 
seventh,  being  a  woman,  was  not  scalped,  according  to  tribal 
custom. 

As  we  retraced  our  way  to  where  we  had  started  the 
attack  on  the  Caddoes,  we  found  the  other  twelve  of  our 
marauding  band,  and  in  four  or  five  days  we  arrived  at 
the  Indian  village  we  had  left  for  the  raid.  The  scalps  of 
the  Caddoes  were  exhibited  as  trophies,  and  a  big  war 
dance  followed.  Much  preparation  was  always  made  for 
these  “gala  fetes,”  known  to  the  Indians  as  “war  dances.” 
Large  arbors  were  constructed  with  such  materials  as  poles 
and  brush,  the  dimensions  usually  being  eighty  to  one 
hundred  feet  square.  The  entrance  to  these  brush  temples 
was  by  means  of  a  deep  trench  or  tunnel  in  the  earth.  The 
Indian  warriors  would  place  the  latest  scalps  on  poles  set 
in  the  ground  and  then  dance  around  them,  making  medicine 
as  they  termed  it  in  English,  or  in  their  own  language 
“pohockit  mahamey.”  In  these  exercises  they  would  be  in 
full  feathers  and  war  paint  with  much  of  their  fighting 
paraphernalia.  They  would  circle  in  a  half  crouching  at¬ 
titude,  keeping  time  to  the  beating  of  a  rudely  fashioned 
drum,  emitting  unearthly  yelps  that  could  be  likened  unto 
the  composite  noise  of  the  bark  of  the  coyote  and  wail  of 
the  panther;  in  fact  a  distinctively  ferocious,  vibrant,  in¬ 
human  sound  calculated  to  give  one  the  “cold  shivers.” 


44 


In  the  Bosom  of  the  Comanches 


Nothing  could  be  more  strangely  weird  than  these  awesome 
orgies  of  the  Indian  war  dance,  a  mingled  exultation  over 
their  latest  deeds  of  horror  and  supplication  to  the  “Great 
Father"  to  give  them  more  courage  and  power  in  their  raids 
and  battles  that  they  might  kill  and  exterminate  all  their 
foes  and  enemies.  They  believed  in  a  supreme  being,  and 
instead  of  saying  God  as  we  do  they  would  say  “Our  sure 
enough  Father,”  which  in  their  language  is  “To-bicke.” 
Their  faith  was  that  they  would  all  go  to  heaven  unless 
their  scalps  were  taken,  when  they  would  be  doomed  or 
forever  lost.  It  was  due  to  this  belief  that  they  scalped 
their  dead  foes,  with  exception  of  the  negro  who,  according 
to  their  theory  had  no  soul.  However,  they  would  kill 
negroes  so  as  to  get  them  out  of  the  way  and  also  to  pre¬ 
vent  them  from  killing  any  of  the  Indian  tribe. 

During  all  of  the  period  of  my  captivity  my  father 
strove  diligently  to  get  some  trace  of  me,  to  ascertain  if 
my  life  had  been  spared,  and  if  so  to  rescue  or  recover  me. 
In  his  effort  to  learn  something  of  and  locate  me,  my  father 
spent  much  time  at  Fort  Arbuckle,  a  post  for  United  States 
soldiers.  These  soldiers  had  an  Indian  interpreter  by  the 
name  of  Harris  P.  Jones,  who  aided  my  father  in  the  work 
of  inducing  the  Indians  to  give  me  up.  The  Indians  would 
say  that  1  was  dead,  but  this  father  did  not  believe  as  he 
had  received  a  letter  from  an  Indian  trader  in  Kansas  who 
had  seen  and  talked  with  me  and  whom  I  had  given  my 
father's  address  with  request  to  write  him  the  particulars 
of  my  location  and  the  specific  band  of  Indians  that  had  me. 

As  previously  mentioned  the  Comanches  were  governed 
by  four  chiefs,  and  Chief  Horseback  headed  the  band  to 
which  1  was  attached.  Chief  Esserhaby  governed  another 
band,  and  in  many  respects  was  a  most  remarkable  Indian. 
He  had  splendid  stature  and  a  commanding  presence  and, 
for  an  Indian,  unusual  intelligence,  and  inasmuch  as  I  owed 


In  the  Bosom  of  the  Comanches 


45 


so  much  to  him  for  my  safe  return  and  the  further  fact 
that  he  rendered  such  conspicuous  service  in  leading  the 
Indians  from  the  warpath  to  the  reservations  and  in  estab¬ 
lishing  friendliness  between  the  Indians  and  the  whites,  I 
shall  digress  for  the  purpose  of  briefly  depicting  this 


CHIEF  ESSERHABY  (Taken  from  an  old  picture) 


46 


In  the;  Bosom  ot  the;  Comanche:s 


distinguished  Comanche  chief.  The  chieftancy  with  the 
Indians  was  not  a  hereditary  authority  but  rather  bestowed 
by  the  elective  choice  of  the  respective  tribes.  Some  of  the 
more  essential  qualifications  were  physical  fitness,  wisdom 
in  tribal  affairs,  a  record  for  dash  and  daring,  and  valor 
and  firmness  whether  in  c-amp  or  battle.  These  were  the 
requisites  of  leadership  by  which  the  braves  were  guided 
in  chosing  their  chiefs.  Upon  this  standard  Esserhaby 
was  pre-eminently  a  great  and  powerful  chief,  and  was  so 
regarded  by  both  the  Indians  and  the  whites.  Esserhaby 
was  a  native  of  Texas,  and  at  the  time  of  his  birth  the 
Comanche  tribe  had  great  numerical  strength  and  domi¬ 
nated  a  large  division  of  Texas.  They  were  notably  fierce 
and  aggressive,  and  also  artful  and  courageous  in  battle,  and 
stubbornly  contested  every  inch  as  they  were  beaten  back. 
So  long  and  persistently  did  they  continue  to  struggle 
that  the  remnant  of  this  once  vastly  numerous  and  powerful 
tribe  at  the  termination  had  an  aspect  the  next  thing  to 
annihilation. 

Esserhaby  was  such  a  dreaded  warrior  chief  that  in 
1864  J.  W.  Throckmorton,  then  governor  of  Texas,  looking 
to  the  pacification  of  the  Indian  and  ending  the  struggle 
involving  such  a  frightful  loss  of  life  and  burden  upon 
the  resources  of  the  state,  devised  a  means  of  communica¬ 
tion  with  Esserhaby  and  arranged  a  specific  date  for  a 
conference  or  council  at  Austin,  the  state  capital,  the 
participants  to  be  a  large  Indian  delegation  composed  of 
chiefs  and  prominent  tribesmen  headed  by  Esserhaby,  and 
on  behalf  of  Texas  the  governor  and  eminent  civil  officials 
and  commanders  of  the  state  constabulary,  including  several 
captains  of  the  Ranger  forces,  who  had  done  heroic  and 
sanguinary  fighting  upon  the  frontiers.  The  deputation 
of  Indians  under  the  leadership  of  their  chief  Esserhaby 
was  met  at  the  frontier  by  Texas  Rangers  under  whose 


In  the  Bosom  oe  the  Comanches 


47 


guidance  as  the  guests  of  Texas  they  were  safely  conducted 
to  Austin,  where  the  conference  was  had  on  schedule  time. 
This  council  was  historical  and  in  many  respects  notable. 
The  immensity  of  the  population  and  power  of  the  United 
States  and  the  increased  population  and  strength  of  Texas 
were  made  clear  by  explanation,  illustration,  and  ample 
object  lessons.  Chief  Esserhaby  and  his  retinue  of  colleagues 
were  visibly  and  profoundly  impressed  with  what  they  had 
seen,  heard,  and  been  taught.  They  were  entertained  and 
maintained  at  the  expense  of  the  state  and  were  captivated 
by  the  consideration  and  kindness  extended  by  Governor 
Throckmorton  and  all  the  other  officials  and  by  the  people 
as  a  whole.  A  treaty  was  entered  into  by  which  Esserhaby 
and  his  immediate  followers  would  become  the  white  man’s 
friends  and  would  discontinue  forever  all  acts  of  hostility 
and  depredations,  and  live  on  terms  of  mutual  peace  and 
respect  for  life  and  property  rights  with  all  white  settlers 
upon  the  borderland  of  Texas.  They  further  covenanted  to 
exercise  their  influence  to  the  utmost  in  restraining  other 
divisions  of  the  Comanche  tribe  and  the  Indians  of  all 
the  other  tribes  hostile  to  the  whites.  With  the  consumation 
of  these  treaties  and  covenants  and  after  much  reciprocal 
felicitation  and  the  bestowal  of  abundant  food  and  valuable 
gifts,  these  distinguished  Indian  guests  were  escorted  on 
the  long  return  journey  to  their  distant  nomadic  homes  in 
the  primordial  wilds  of  forest  and  plain. 

Be  it  said  to  the  credit  of  this  splendid  chief  and  truly 
great  and  “noble  red  man”  that  not  in  the  slightest  degree 
even  in  the  nature  of  a  trespass  was  there  ever  any  infraction 
of  the  treaty  terms,  spirit  or  covenants  upon  his 
part  or  that  of  his  band  or  immediate  subjects.  It  can 
also  be  said  of  him  that  his  constant  exhortation  to  his 
fellow  tribesmen,  whether  around  the  camp  fires,  upon  the 
chase  or  in  the  councils  of  the  chiefs,  was  that  of  abiding 


48 


In  the;  Bosom  of  the;  Comanche;s 


permanent  peace,  friendship  and  honesty.  In  his  irre¬ 
vocable  and  inflexible  stand  he  had  much  to  combat  in 
the  diabolical  perversity  and  fiery  impetuosity  of  other 
chiefs,  but  all  the  while  there  was  manifest  a  gradual  waning 
and  yielding  of  the  opposition.  The  great  good  that 
resulted  from  the  immovable  firmness  and  unfailing  loyalty 
of  this  Indian  sage  and  humanitarian  could  not  be  expressed 
in  mere  words.  Some  day  will  come  that  tardy  recognition, 
when  on  a  granite  pedestal  a  great  marble  shaft  (wrought 
from  Texas  quarries),  will  tower  aloft,  and,  surrounded  by 
the  monuments  to  others  of  the  long  honor  roll  of  Texan 
heroes  and  patriots,  will  commemorate  and  emblazon  the 
magnanimity  and  unwonted  fidelity,  the  loftiness  of 
impulse  and  character  of  Chief  Esserhaby,  once  dreaded 
as  an  implacable  warrior  foe,  and  withal  a  big  brained 
masterful  child  of  nature,  whose  vibrant  soulstrings  when 
touched  by  the  benevolent  and  patriotic  demeanor  and 
entreaties  of  Governor  Throckmorton  responded  with  all 
the  unison  and  perfection  in  harmony  of  the  inspired  music 
of  the  ancient  harp  of  lyre. 

Twenty  years  later,  when  the  several  hundred  Comanches 
and  Kiowas,  the  remnants  of  these  once  powerful  and 
numerous  tribes,  were  established  on  their  reservations 
across  the  Red  river  from  western  Texas  in  the  Wichita 
mountains  and  adjacent  plains,  the  little  city  of  Wichita 
Falls,  Texas,  the  then  terminus  of  the  Fort  Worth  and 
Denver  railroads,  114  miles  west  of  Fort  Worth,  elected  to 
celebrate  its  third  anniversary  and  in  a  manner  and  on  a 
scale  befitting  its  splendid  growth  and  terminal  importance. 
Being  then  the  first  and  farthest  western  railroad  outpost, 
it  was  resolved  to  invest  the  celebration  with  such  features 
as  would  not  only  be  entertaining  and  pleasing  but  mem¬ 
orable  and  historical  as  well.  Wichita  Falls  was  then  the 
extreme  western  railroad  gateway  to  the  vast  and  but  little 


In  the  Bosom  of  the  Comanches 


49 


JOHN  PASAWAKY,  Son  of  Chief  Esserhaby 


50 


In  the:  Bosom  op*  the;  Comanche;s 


known  Panhandle  of*  Texas,  northeastern  New  Mexico,  No 
Man’s  Land,  and  all  of  the  immense  area  of  southwestern 
Indian  Territory,  now  embraced  within  the  state  of  Oklaho¬ 
ma.  This  region  in  scope  and  breadth  almost  beyond  compre¬ 
hensive  grasp,  and  so  recently  the  habitat  of  the  Comanche, 
Kiowa,  and  Apache  Indians  and  the  unnumbered  buffalo, 
was  now  in  that  first  transitional  stage  that  made  it  pos¬ 
sible  and  safe  for  exploration  and  occupation  by  the  world’s 
biggest  cattle  ranches  that  so  quickly  followed.  Therefore, 
the  hardy,  venturesome  denizens  of  the  great  western  wilds 
and  those  of  the  older  settlements  of  the  state  and  other 
states  were  invited  to  attend  this  celebration  of  one  week, 
and  they  attended  by  the  thousands.  The  climax  of  the 
celebration  was  the  presence  of  some  five  hundred  Comanche 
and  Kiowa  Indians,  including  several  hundred  ex-warriors 
under  the  command  of  the  grand  old  Chief  Esserhaby,  and 
that  of  the  renowned  ex-governor,  James  W.  Throckmorton, 
and  John  Ireland,  the  then  governor  of  Texas.  The  lusty 
young  city  of  Wichita  Falls  was  lavishly  decorated,  and 
enthusiasm  and  hospitality  in  an  unparalleled  degree  abound¬ 
ed  on  every  hand,  as  there  was  with  one  and  all  a  con¬ 
sciousness  that  this  unique  and  extensive,  if  not  prodigious, 
foregathering  was  to  be  the  prelude  to  a  momentous  new 
era,  in  fact  the  christening  and  baptismal  ceremony  of  one 
of  the  world’s  latest  and  greatest  empires;  and  utterly 
impossible  would  it  have  been  for  the  anticipations  and 
purposes  of  this  multitude  to  have  found  expression  under 
a  more  impressive,  auspicious,  and  inspiring  general  set¬ 
ting.  Every  incident  and  circumstance  seemed  to  conspire 
to  foreshadow  and  foretell  the  uninterrupted  industrial 
progress  and  substantial  achivements  ordained  to  follow. 

In  pursuance  of  a  studiously  planned  and  prearranged 
program  the  celebration  was  fittingly  inaugurated  with  a 
parade  reaching  such  proportions  as  to  be  nothing  less 


In  the:  Bosom  oe1  the:  Comanche:s  51 

than  a  splendid  pageant.  Colorful  and  impressive  this 
parade  was  headed  by  Governor  Jno.  Ireland  and  the  ven¬ 
erable  ex-governor,  J.  W.  Throckmorton,  and  other  distin¬ 
guished  visitors,  including  men  conspicuous  as  daring 
pioneers  and  for  services  rendered  the  state.  Next  in  line 
were  officers  and  soldiers  from  Fort  Sill  army  post  across 
the  border  in  Indian  Territory,  then  a  company  of  Texas 
Rangers  and  veteran  scouts  and  peace  officers  of  the  fron¬ 
tier  wilds.  Following  closely  was  the  Indian  contingent, 
composed  of  about  two  hundred  erstwhile  warriors  with 
chief  Esserhaby  and  other  chiefs  at  their  head,  all  mounted 
and  in  full  war  paints  and  the  same  equipment  £.nd  parap¬ 
hernalia  that  had  seen  service  in  many  raids  and  battles 
with  the  whites;  then  uniformed  fraternal  organizations 
and  representatives  of  civic  and  benevolent  societies  with 
citizens  from  the  ranks  of  business,  labor,  and  the  professions 
bringing  up  the  rear,  making  in  all  a  procession  exceeding 
a  mile  in  length.  Military  and  other  brass  bands  were 
interspersed,  enlivening  the  stately  march  to  the  barbecue 
grounds,  where  in  characteristic  western  style  and  hos¬ 
pitality  a  bounteous  feast  was  served.  The  repast  was 
greatly  enjoyed  and  especially  by  the  Indians,  for  whom  a 
superabundance  of  fat  beef  had  been  barbecued.  Fervid 
patriotic  and  prophetic  speeches  were  the  features  of  the 
afternoon’s  program  for  the  whites,  and  racing  and  competi¬ 
tive  shooting  with  bows  and  arrows  engaged  and  entertained 
the  Indians.  The  entertainment  committee  enclosed  sev¬ 
eral  acres  of  smooth  plateau  on  an  eminence  overlooking 
Wichita  Falls  with  a  high  board  wall  and  here  the  Indians 
bivouacked  and  thrilled  the  citizens  and  visiting  throngs 
with  their  weird  war  dances  each  night  of  the  seweral  days 
celebration.  The  Indians  lent  these  war  dances  all  the 
coloring,  zest  and  uncanniness  of  such  performances  dur¬ 
ing  the  darkest  hours  of  the  bitterly  murderous  hostilities 


U.  OF  SLL  ua 


52 


In  the  Bosom  oe  the  ComanchEs 


that  had  preceded  a  few  short  years  only.  In  attendance 
upon  the  war  dance  of  the  first  night  there  were  thousands 
of  eager  spectators,  and  at  the  height  of  the  performance 
there  was  a  temporary  suspension  that  there  might  be 
enacted  a  scene  that  for  dramatic  aspect  and  historical 
effect  could  have  had  but  few  parallels  in  the  more  striking 
and  inspiring  episodes  of  this  or  any  other  age. 

Upon  a  raised  stand  or  platform  stood  ex-governor 
Throckmorton,  imposing  and  majestic  in  stature  and  erect¬ 
ness,  and  with  his  snow  white  hair  and  beard  and  his  un¬ 
dimmed  eyes,  flashing,  fiery  enthusiasm  he  looked  every  inch 
the  grandest  of  patriarchs.  By  his  side  the  leonine  imper¬ 
turbable  Chief  Esserhaby  with  soldierly  mien  sat  upon  a 
gorgeously  caparisoned  cream-colored  charger.  As  these 
two  immortals,  each  a  hero,  philosopher  and  law-giver,  looked 
into  each  other’s  eyes  with  prolonged  clasped  hands,  there 
were  vociferous  cheers  from  the  excited  multitude  whose 
echoes  will  roll  on  when  memories  are  no  more.  Let  the 
imagination  be  exerted  and  taxed  in  an  attempt  to  repro¬ 
duce  this  extraordinary  picture  with  its  wealth  of  coloring, 
changeful  scenes,  and  kaleidoscopic  background;  for  the 
expression  of  speech  or  pen  cannot.  In  the  glow  and 
shadows  of  bonfires  blazing  here  and  there  throughout 
the  grounds,  saturnine  subdued  Indian  warriors,  blanketed 
painted,  and  highly  bedecked  with  feathers,  beads,  and 
multi-colored  ornamentation,  silently  and  noiselessly  stalked 
as  only  an  Indian  can.  Joyous  and  expectant  men  and 
women  of  city  and  country  from  over  Texas  and  several 
other  states  touched  elbows  with  dignitaries  of  state,  sol¬ 
diers  and  officers,  civil  and  military,  with  a  spirit  and  senti¬ 
ment  of  reciprocal  good-will  manifest  in  every  act,  greeting 
or  expression.  With  the  unclasping  of  hands  with  Chief 
Esserhaby,  Governor  Throckmorton  was  formally  presented 
to  the  multitude,  over  whom  fell  an  instant  hush  as  in 


In  the  Bosom  of  the  Comanches 


53 


Chief  Esserhaby’s  Grandson,  Squaws  and  Papoose 


54 


In  the;  Bosom  o t  the;  Comanche;s 


resounding  voice  he  related,  retold,  and  explained  the 
treaty  made  years  before  with  Chief  Esserhaby  and  how 
this  great  Indian  had  kept  the  faith  and  proven  an  invalua¬ 
ble  ally  and  instrumentality  in  holding  the  hostile  Indians 
in  check,  and  the  final  establishment  of  peace.  In  his  pero¬ 
ration  this  venerable  and  beloved  statesman  and  patriot  paid 
a  beautiful,  glowing,  and  well-earned  tribute  to  Chief  Esser¬ 
haby,  a  colossus  of  his  tribe  and  race. 

During  the  delivery  of  the  oration  by  Governor  Throck¬ 
morton,  Chief  Esserhaby  was  near  by,  mounted  on  the 
beautiful  cream-colored  horse  he  had  ridden  that  day  in 
the  parade.  At  the  conclusion  of  Governor  Throckmorton’s 
address  Esserhaby  was  introduced  to  the  big  concourse 
assembled  and  from  his  horse  he  delivered  a  response  nota¬ 
ble  for  its  candor  and  philosophy  and  for  flashes  of  natural 
eloquence  as  pleasing  and  thrilling  as  they  were  rare  and 
unexpected.  Chief  Esserhaby  spoke  some  English  and  had 
a  very  good  understanding  of  it,  but  he  lacked  the  necessary 
fluency  in  English  for  so  important  an  oration.  He  there¬ 
fore  delivered  the  remarkable  address  in  the  Indian  language 
followed  by  a  skillful,  trained,  and  experienced  interpreter 
from  the  government  Indian  agency.  In  his  introductory 
remarks  Esserhaby  told  of  the  inherent  convictions  of  the 
great  Indian  tribes  that  in  the  invasion  and  loss  of  their 
country  arid  hunting  grounds  they  had  suffered  a  great 
injustice  at  the  hands  of  the  whites;  how  the  whites  were 
always  advancing  and  taking  more  and  more  territory  and 
that  eventually  the  Indians  would  lose  the  heritage  of 
their  forefathers,  the  God-given  birthrights  of  their  ancient 
race.  From  this  he  passed  into  a  recital  of  the  perfidy  and 
broken  faith  on  both  sides  and  the  consequent  decrees  of 
their  councils  to  go  on  the  war-path  and  in  that  manner 
seek  reprisals  and  circumvent  the  extension  of  white  settle¬ 
ments  and  colonies  and  drive  back  and  destroy  those  farthest 


In  the  Bosom  of  the  Comanches 


55 


out  on  the  frontiers.  He  then  described  in  dramatic  voice 
and  gesture  many  of  the  battles  he  had  waged,  told  of 
the  victims  and  scalps  taken,  and  depicted  the  horrors  and 
agonies  of  the  dying.  Within  the  hearing  of  his  voice 
were  not  a  few  whites  who  had  also  participated  in  the  very 
conflicts  and  battles  he  was  portraying.  Here  he  related 
how  messages  had  reached  him,  as  one  of  the  powerful  chiefs 
of  the  Comanches,  from  Governor  Throckmorton,  the  big 
white  chief  of  Texas,  askipg  if  at  Austin,  the  capital  of  the 
vState,  a  conference  could  not  be  held  looking  to  the  formu¬ 
lation  of  such  treaties  and  covenants  that  would  end  the 
strife  and  put  a  stop  to  pillage  and  massacre;  and  how  he 
had  harkened  to  the  overture  and  had  had  the  ruling 
chiefs  assemble,  and  in  the  council  consent  to  the  program 
of  Governor  Throckmorton. 

At  this  juncture  the  unlettered  natural  Indian  orator 
became  more  fervid,  and  in  ringing  accents  described  what 
he  saw  and  did  at  Austin  under  the  directions  and  guardian¬ 
ship  of  the  great  Governor  Throckmorton.  He  narrated 
the  circumstance  of  his  returning  to  his  tribesmen  and  say¬ 
ing  to  them  that  if  they  persisted  in  war  they  were  doomed 
to  extermination,  that  when  an  Indian  warrior  fell  or  per¬ 
ished  in  battle  his  place  could  not  be  filled,  and  that  to  slay 
one  white  there  were  thousands  upon  thousands  to  fill  the 
ranks.  Using  almost  his  exact  language  and  expressions, 
he  said  the  white  man  was  like  unto  the  leaves  of  their 
boundless  forests  or  the  blades  of  grass  that  blanketed  the 
uncharted  plains  and  plateaus  of  all  the  distant  wilds  the 
Indians  had  ever  seen  or  known,  and  that  the  Indian  had 
no  alternative  but  death  or  peace.  He  then  explained  to 
them  the  pledges  he  had  made  the  great  white  father,  and 
the  tribesmen  owing  allegiance  to  him  endorsed  his  pledges 
and  treaties  and  were  thereafter  as  steadfast  in  peace  as 
they  had  been  aggressive  and  merciless  in  war.  In  a  vein 


56 


In  thf  Bosom  of  thf  Comanchfs 


of  much  feeling  and  pathos,  in  which  he  referred  to  the 
sunset  of  his  days  and  pronounced  a  burning  eulogium  upon 
Governor  Throckmorton  and  others  of  his  distinguished 
white  friends  and  colleagues,  this  splendid  masterful  old 
warrior  chief  concluded  what  was  perhaps  one  of  the  most 
remarkable,  impassioned,  forceful,  and  dramatic  set  speeches 
or  orations  ever  delivered  by  an  Indian  in  any  age,  present 
or  past. 

Resuming  the  narrative  leading  up  to  the  preliminaries 
incident  to  my  ultimate  recovery  from  captivity  and  restora¬ 
tion  to  my  father,  I  should  explain  I  had  been  held  by 
the  band  of  Comanches  headed  by  Chief  Horseback,  and 
my  captivity  was  known  to  Chief  Esserhaby,  who  now  being 
a  friend  of  the  whites,  was  anxious  and  ready  to  do  all  he 
could  toward  my  release.  He  pleaded  my  cause  with  Chief 
Horseback  and  spoke  feelingly  of  the  treaty  with  Governor 
Throckmorton,  whom  he  termed  “Buck-skin  Coat,”  and 
represented  as  a  steadfast  friend  of  all  the  Indians.  Short¬ 
ly  after  this,  Esserhaby  visited  Fort  Arbuckle  and  made 
known  to  H.  P.  Jones,  Indian  interpreter,  and  my  father, 
where  and  by  whom  I  was  held  and  an  understanding  was 
had  that  Esserhaby  should  journey  Ho  the  headquarters  of 
Chief  Horseback  as  special  envoy  in  behalf  of  my  recovery. 
According  to  appointment  he  arrived  at  our  camp  or  village 
headquarters  and  was  accompanied  by  two  of  his  squaws 
or  spouses.  They  were  guests  at  the  camp  some  five  weeks 
and  during  the  time  there  were  frequent  big  councils,  the 
object  of  which  being  the  consideration  of  returning  me  to 
my  people.  After  a  display  of  much  obstinacy  it  was  finally 
agreed  that  I  would  be  permitted  to  exercise  my  own  choice 
or  pleasure  between  remaining  a  tribesman  or  warrior  and 
rejoining  my  father  and  civilization.  Chief  Horseback  and 
many  of  his  band  were  confident  that  after  I  had  habituated 
myself  so  unreservedly  to  Indian  life,  and  had  with  such 


In  the,  Bosom  of  thf  Comanches 


57 


apparent  reconciliation  and  satisfaction,  I  would  elect  to 
stay  with  them.  However,  in  this  they  were  in  great  error, 
as  my  decision  was  instant  and  unalterable  to  return  as 
quickly  as  possible  to  my  father  and  kindred.  It  was  there¬ 
fore  decreed  that  I  should  accompany  Chief  Esserhaby,  with 
a  solemn  pact  and  understanding  upon  part  of  all  that  if 


MISS  MARGIE  BABB— Baby  Sister  of  Dot  Babb 


58 


In  thf  Bosom  of  thf  Comanchfs 


Esserhaby  failed  to  deliver  me  to  my  father  I  would  return 
at  once  to  Chief  Horseback’s  band.  Hasty  preparations 
were  made  for  our  departure. 

During  my  residence  with  the  Indians  many  mutual 
attachments  had  been  formed.  I  was  at  an  impressionable 
age,  and  reciprocated  the  fondness  and  affection  for  me  that 
had  found  lodgment  with  a  large  number  of  these  Indians, 
including  braves,  squaws,  and  their  boys  who  were  my 
closest  companions.  Therefore,  my  going  seemed  to  cast* 
a  gloom  over  the  entire  camp  and  there  were  enacted  many 
pathetic  scenes  that  I  shall  never  forget.  Not  a  few  cried 
and  wept  bitterly,  and  notably  one  squaw  and  her  son  who 
had  claimed  me  as  son  and  brother  and  as  such  were  my 
guardians  and  protectors,  and  to  whose  immediate  family 
and  household  I  had  been  attached.  This  squaw  was  a  sis¬ 
ter  to  Chief  Horseback  and  she  had  two  brothers  besides 
the  one  that  captured  me,  Perney  and  Tutchispooder.  The 
close  companionship  had  cemented  bonds  of  affection  almost 
as  sacred  as  family  ties.  Their  kindnesses  to  me  had  been 
lavish  and  unvarying,  and  my  friendship  and  attachment 
in  return  were  deep  and  sincere,  and  I  could  scarcely  restrain 
my  emotions  when  time  came  for  the  final  good-bye.  Esser¬ 
haby  in  getting  me  detached  and  into  his  possession  had 
not  only  to  intercede,  plead  and  confer  for  weeks,  but  to 
ransom  me  as  well,  giving  Chief  Horseback  for  his  use  and 
distribution  several  fine  horses  and  numerous  saddle's,  bridles, 
blankets,  and  other  valuable  gifts. 

The  ransom  now  having  been  delivered  to  Chief  Horse¬ 
back,  and  all  formalities  of  the  farewell  and  separation  be¬ 
ing  over,  I  was  duly  transferred  to  the  custody  of  Chief 
Esserhaby,  who,  with  me,  his  squaws  and  a  few  warriors, 
departed  in  the  direction  of  Fort  Arbuckle,  which  journey 
we  made  in  easy  stages.  We  would  meet  other  bands  of 
Indians  and  halt  for  several  days  at  a  place,  and  were  six 


In  the:  Bosom  of  the:  Comanche:s 


59 


weeks  reaching  Fort  Arbuckle.  Esserhaby  enjoyed  the  sport 
of  horse-racing  and  was  capable  of  shrewd  scheming  in 
winning  horses  from  other  bands  of  Indians.  Esserhaby  had 
with  him  some  very  swift  horses,  and  when  we  met  a  band 
of  Che}^enne  Indians  he  matched  a  number  of  races,  the  win¬ 
ner  in  each  race  to  take  the  competitor’s  horse.  I  was 
a  trained  jockey  and  did  all  the  riding  for  Esserhaby,  and 
out  of  six  races  we  won  six  horses,  having  won  every  race. 
Before  the  races  took  place,  Esserhaby  had  me  round  up 
six  of  the  best  and  fleetest  horses,  and  with  him  and  the 
horses  steal  off  to  a  secluded  flat  several  miles  distant  and 
there  test  or  try  out  the  speed  of  each  horse.  A  given  dis¬ 
tance  was  designated  for  me  to  cover,  and  as  I  would  do 
so  Esserhaby  would  count;  and  when  the  six  horses  had 
been  run  over  this  course  at  their  utmost  speed  he  had  their 
record.  In  the  final  races  with  the  Cheyennes  he  entered 
his  proven  animals,  and,  as  previously  stated,  won  every  race 
pulled  off.  This  success  so  pleased  Esserhaby  that  he  wanted 
to  postpone  indefinitely  our  return  to  Fort  Arbuckle,  or 
at  all  events  till  we  could  win  a  large  herd  of  horses  from 
the  Cheyennes  and  others.  To  this  I  would  not  consent, 
as  I  was  eager  to  unite  with  my  father,  who  was  reported 
as  waiting  at  Fort  Arbuckle  with  the  hope  and  belief  that  I 
would  be  brought  in.  Esserhaby  assented  and  agreed  that 
he  would  forego  the  further  racing  program  and  hasten  on 
our  journey. 

We  were  now  on  the  Canadian  river,  and  in  three  days 
reached  the  Washita  and  followed  the  course  of  this  stream 
till  reaching  a  point  where  Anadarko  now  stands.  The 
Washita  was  running  bank  full  from  heavy  rains  on  its 
head  waters,  and,  as  we  were  on  the  north  side,  Esserhaby 
said  that  we  would  have  to  swim  over  and  proceed  down 
the  south  side  of  this  river.  Everyone  in  the  party,  squaws 
included,  was  an  expert  swimmer,  and  with  pack  mules, 


60 


In  the  Bosom  of  the  Comanches 


horses,  camp  equipment,  and  general  impedimenta  we 
plunged  into  the  raging  river  and  without  mishap  or  great 
difficulty  we  landed  on  the  south  bank  about  noon.  We 
camped  for  the  rest  of  the  day,  and  in  the  brilliant  sun¬ 
shine  of  the  afternoon  dried  our  apparel,  bedding,  and 
general  camp  outfit.  Early  the  next  morning  we  resumed 
the  journey,  and  about  evelen  o’clock  we  sighted  a  bevy 
white  men  at  no  great  distance.  Esserhaby  and  his  lieuten¬ 
ant  made  for  the  camp,  and  upon  arriving  beckoned  or 
signaled  to  me  and  the  squaws  to  follow  with  the  horses 
and  accoutrements. 

As  we  approached,  I  saw  my  father,  H.  P.  Jones,  the 
United  States  interpreter,  and  two  other  white  men.  Ar¬ 
riving  at  their  camp  my  father  kept  his  back  turned  to  me, 
thinking  he  would  surprise  me,  asking  me  numerous  ques¬ 
tions,  among  which  when  I  had  seen  my  father  last;  and 
I  answered,  “I  am  looking  at  him  now.”  He  could  endure 
the  suspense  no  longer  and  racked  with  emotion  and  crying 
he  ran  to  me  and  embraced  me  with  such  exclamations  as 
“This  is  my  long  lost  darling  boy.”  A  convulsive  joy  or 
hysteria  seized  and  for  a  while  claimed  both  of  us,  and  the 
emotions  that  surged  and  possessed  us  beggar  and  defy 
adequate  expression.  It  was  not  only  a  case  of  lost  being 
found,  but  one  as  if  the  dead  had  actually  risen.  A  res¬ 
toration  unbelievable  and  one  that  had  given  an  illusory 
hope,  such  as  the  mirage  that  always  remains  just  ahead  but 
forever  continues  unreal  and  intangible.  And  all  this  was 
changed  into  a  reality,  and  the  son  so  long  lost  and  so  often 
believed  or  imagined  dead  under  the  most  cruel  and  mur¬ 
derous  infliction  was  again  in  the  embrace  of  an  affectionate 
father.  The  reunion  with  my  father  while  yielding  un¬ 
bounded  mutual  joy  had  its  bitterness  from  the  awakened 
memory  of  that  terrible  scene  of  a  beloved  wife  and  mother 
in  unspeakable  butchery  forfeiting  her  precious  life  through 


In  the  Bosom  oe  the  Comanches  61 

a  futile  effort  to  shelter  and  defend  helpless  children  dearer 
to  her  than  life  itself. 

Some  hours  of  absolute  rest  necessarily  followed  this 
meeting  that  had  so  taxed  the  emotions  and  strength  of 
both,  and  we  did  not  proceed  on  our  return  journey  until  in 
the  afternoon  when  we  had  had  time  for  composure,  refresh¬ 
ment  and  recuperation.  My  father  and  Mr.  Jones,  the 
Indian  interpreter,  had  become  impatient  as  a  result  of  the 


H.  C.  BABB,  Brother  of  Dot  Babb. 


62 


In  thf  Bosom  of  thf  Comanchfs 


prolonged  absence  of  Chief  Esserhaby,  who  had  been  out 
several  weeks  on  the  special  mission  of  my  recovery;  and 
when  we  met  them  they  were  on  an  expedition  either  to 
find  Esserhaby  or  provide  some  other  means  for  getting 
in  touch  with  me  and  having  me  turned  over  to  them.  In 
the  middle  of  the  afternoon  we  broke  camp  and  took  up 
our  march  to  Pauls  Valley  on  the  Washita  river.  This  point 
we  reached  the  next  afternoon,  and  spent  the  night  and 
several  days  as  the  guests  of  a  Mr.  Chanler,  who  had  mar¬ 
ried  a  Mexican  girl  that  he  had  rescued  form  the  Indians  a 
few  years  before.  They  then  had  one  child,  but  on  coming 
in  contact  with  them  many  years  later  I  found  they  had 
reared  a  large  progeny  of  boys  and  girls.  From  Mr.  Chan- 
ler’s  place  we  pushed  on  to  Fort  Arbuckle,  and  there  my 
father  had  final  settlement  with  Chief  Esserhaby  in  the 
way  of  cash  and  horses  which  pleased  him  highly.  It 
will  be  recalled  Esserhaby  had  ransomed  me  from  Chief 
Horseback  with  several  horses,  and  for  his  work  and  suc¬ 
cess  in  restoring  me  to  my  father  Esserhaby  was  liberally 
rewarded  with  both  money  and  horses.  All  this  was  done 
solely  and  independently  by  my  father,  who  was  not  assisted 
to  the  extent  of  one  cent  by  the  United  States  government, 
charged  with  the  security  and  protection  of  the  lives  and 
property  of  its  citizens  and  subjects. 

As  was  mentioned  some  time  previously,  my  sister  had 
been  recovered  from  another  band  of  Indians  and  had  been 
with  father  at  Fort  Arbuckle  awaiting  my  return.  In  their 
projected  search  of  tidings  of  Esserhaby  and  me,  father 
and  Mr.  Jones  took  my  sister  with  them  until  reaching 
the  hospitable  home  of  Mr.  Chanler,  where  she  was  made  to 
sojourn  pending  our  return  journey  to  Fort  Arbuckle;  and 
here  I  saw  my  sister  for  the  first  time  after  the  marauding 
Indians  that  captured  us  were  sub-divided,  she  being 
taken  by  one  band  or  division,  and  I  by  the  other.  To  realize 


In  the  Bosom  of  the  Comanches 


63 


upon  our  meeting  that  her  life  had  been  spared  and  that  she 
was  in  robust  health  was  a  delight  and  pleasure  I  am  unable 
to  describe.  But  again  I  was  to  drink  from  the  cup  of 
sorrow  and  bitterness  more  deeply  than  ever  in  witnessing 
the  anguish  and  consuming  grief  of  my  sister,  who  had 
just  learned  that  our  herioc  mother  did  not  survive  the 
deadly  thrusts  of  the  blood-stained  lance,  knife,  and  arrow. 
I  had  to  draw  on  my  every  resource,  courage,  and  strength 
to  sustain  myself  through  this  chapter  of  horrors,  of  which 
every  page  was  crimson  with  tragedy  or  replete  with  fan¬ 
tastic  and  harrowing  adventure  and  experience.  Finally 
when  I  realized  the  curtain  was  about  to  descend  and  shut 
out  the  hideous  life  of  savagery,  my  feelings  and  spirits 
began  to  rise,  and  with  many  expressions  of  gratitude  to 
Chief  Esserhaby  and  Mr.  Jones,  father  and  I  entered  upon 


JAMES  w.  BABB 

Dot  Babb’s  granduncle.  Born  in  Indiana  in  1787. 
Died  in  Wisconsin  in  1873. 


64 


In  the  Bosom  of  the  Comanches 


the  last  lap  that  would  take  us  out  of  the  dominions  of  the 
Indian  Territory  and  away  from  its  struggles,  weirdness, 
and  savage  hate  and  exploit  and  back  to  Texas  where  we 
would  undertake  to  re-establish  the  family  altar  and  out¬ 
live  and  master  the  bitter  memories,  calamities  and  adver¬ 
sities  of  the  past. 

The  following  day  we  once  more  reined  up  at  Mr.  Chan¬ 
ter’s  house,  and  being  joined  by  my  sister  and  all  mounted 
on  ponies,  we  hurried  on  with  quickened  steps  and  in  four 
or  five  days  arrived  at  Red  river,  the  boundary  between 
Texas  and  the  then  notorious  and  fateful  Indian  Territory. 
We  found  Red  river  several  hundred  yards  wide  and  almost 
bank  full  from  prolonged  heavy  rains,  and  our  only  alterna¬ 
tive  was  to  swim  across  to  the  Texas  side.  This  perfor¬ 
mance,  with  the  river  a  raging  torrent,  involved  much  peril, 
daring  and  skill.  To  find  a  landing  place  on  the  farther 
side  and  to  test  the  force  of  the  current  my  father  disrobed 
and  swam  the  river,  selected  a  place  the  horses  could  get  a 
footing  and  ascend  the  river  bank,  and  swam  back  to  pilot 
sister  and  me  across.  We  at  once  entered  the  river  on  our 
three  mounts  and  reached  the  farther  shore,  and  in  so  doing 
had  a  severe  struggle  in  which  I  narrowly  escaped  death. 
Father  led  sister’s  horse,  and  drawing  on  his  experience  and 
cool  daring  their  difficulties  were  less  and  more  easily  over¬ 
come  than  mine.  I  was  riding  a  small  black  bald-face  two- 
year-old,  and  when  we  reached  the  main  channel,  very  swift 
and  heavy  with  swirling  sand,  the  pony  stopped  swimming 
and  turning  somewhat  on  his  side  rather  floated  with  the 
current.  I  being  an  expert  swimmer  could  no  doubt  have 
swum  ashore,  but  it  was  important  that  I  should  save  my 
horse.  Tightening  my  grip  on  him  I  floated  with  him,  and 
finally  succeeded  in  steering  him  ashore  about  two  miles 
below  the  starting  point.  Father  and  sister  landed  several 
hundred  vards  down  stream  also,  and  on  getting  out  and 


In  the;  Bosom  os'  the:  Comanche:s 


65 


not  seeing  me,  father  took  to  the  river  again  and  swam  and 
drifted  down  stream  until  he  saw  me  resting  safely  on  the 
Texas  shore.  Two  white  men  on  the  Texas  side  quite  a 
distance  off  saw  our  difficulties  in  the  river  and  hastened 
to  the  river  to  render  us  what  assistance  they  could;  but 
they  were  too  late,  and  in  any  case  they  perhaps  could  have 
helped  but  little  if  any,  as  in  such  an  angry  current  to  save 
oneself  was  enough  undertaking  for  any  man.  Father 
thanked  them  and  explained  to  them  how  mother  had  been 
slain  and  his  children  abducted  by  the  Indians,  and  that 
he  had  just  recovered  his  children  and  was  hurrying  them 
back  to  shelter  and  civilization. 

We  were  without  food,  baggage,  or  camp  equipment, 
and  in  our  hungry  drenched  condition  the  next  move  was 
a  hurried  one  to  Gainesville,  Texas,  a  few  miles  distant,  and 
then  a  small  frontier  hamlet.  We  soon  arrived  at  Gaines¬ 
ville,  and  in  the  interim  the  ride  in  the  wind  and  sun  had 
dried  our  raiment.  Father  very  quickly  procured  an  abun¬ 
dance  of  food.  We  partook  ravenously  and  felt  much  relieved 
and  more  than  ever  thankful  that  we  had  preserved  our 
lives  in  the  latest  heroic  struggle  swimming  Red  river.  The 
people  of  Gainesville,  on  learning  who  we  were  and  our 
experience  and  adventures,  plied  us  with  myriads  of  ques¬ 
tions,  which  we  answered  as  best  we  could.  We  were  offered 
every  conceivable  courtesy  and  hospitality,  but  our  chief 
aim  was  to  hurry  on,  and  with  the  least  possible  delay 
reach  our  kindred  and  the  scene  of  our  former  home  and 
habitation.  Father  hastily  provided  the  necessary  food, 
clothing  and  blankets  for  our  further  journey,  and  we  were 
off  for  Wise  County,  the  last  leg  of  many  hundreds  of  miles 
of  travel  that  in  point  of  thrilling  circumstances,  weird  and 
harrowing  scenes,  and  experiences  of  suffering  and  sorrow 
that  could  have  but  few  .parallels  in  the  most  vividly  colored 
stories  wrought  from  the  imagination,  aside  from  a  painful 


66 


In  the  Bosom  of  the  Comanches 


realism,  so  burned  into  the  soul  and  memory  that  only  time 
could  assuage,  but  never  wholly  or  partially  efface. 

Our  first  night  out  from  Gainesville  we  camped  on  Elm 
creek,  and  starting  early  in  the  morning  and  pushing  hard 
all  day  we  arrived  by  nightfall  at  the  home  of  a  Mr. 
Boothe,  twelve  miles  north  of  Decatur.  There  we  found 
my  brother,  H.  C.  Babb,  and  my  baby  sister,  who  had  been 
spared  by  the  Indians.  We  were  now  about  two  miles  from 
where  we  were  captured  by  the  Indians.  Our  arrival  was 
unexpected,  but  the  rejoicing  on  both  sides  beggars  descrip¬ 
tion.  In  this  way  the  fragments  of  our  once  joyous  and 
devoted  family  were  reunited.  The  first  emotions  of  un¬ 
controllable  gladness  and  rejoicing  soon  gave  way  to  the 
realization  that  our  beloved  mother  was  not  there,  and  that 
with  her  the  only  reunion  vouchsafed  was  when  each  and  all 
of  us  should  answer  the  last  summons.  With  this  as  our 
only  solace  we  resolved  to  so  live  and  die  as  to  be  worthy 
of  the  memory  and  love  of  that  dauntless  mother,  who 
bravely  and  unflinchingly  sacrificed  her  life  in  extending 
sheltering  arms  around  her  trusting  helpless  little  ones.  For 


My  father  moved  to  Wise  Co.  in  1859.  I  was  then  10  years  old. 

Mr.  J.  S.  Babb  was  one  of  pur  neighbors,  and  we  lived  as  neigh¬ 
bors  until  after  the  Civil  War. 

And  after  the  war  the  Indians  were  troublesome  on  the  frontier 

and  in  the  Fall - they  went  to  the  home  of  Mr.  J.  S.  Babb  and 

murdered  Mrs.  Babb  and  left  Margie,  infant,  in  the  house,  and  took 
Dot,  Bankuella,  and  a  widow  lady  by  the  name  of  Roberts  with 
them  and  kept  them  for  several  months.  At  the  time  of  the  killing 
of  Mrs.  Babb,  Mr.  Babb  and  his  son,  H.  C.,  were  on  their  road  to 
Arkansas  with  a  bunch  of  cattle  and  horses  for  sale. 

When  Mr.  Babb  returned  to  this  Co.  he  found  his  wife  killed,  his 
home  destroyed  and  his  children  carried  off  by  the  savages. 

He  left  H.  C.  at  my  father’s  home  and  started  to  Ft.  Sill,  where 
he  found  his  children  living  with  the  Indians. 

He  succeeded  in  getting  his  children  away  from  the  Indians  and 
brought  them  back  to  Wise  Co.,  where  they  lived  several  years. 

Dot  soon  became  a  man  and  married  Miss  Pattie  Graham,  and 
moved  West,  and  is  now  living  at  Amarillo. 


Rufus  Booth. 


In  the:  Bosom  of  the:  Comanche:s 


67 


RUFUS  BOOTH 


68 


In  thf  Bosom  of  thf  Comanchfs 


a  short  while  we  lived  with  the  Boothe  family  and  were  then 
placed  in  the  home  of  a  Mr.  John  Thompson  just  south 
of  old  Bridgeport,  where  we  remained  a  few  weeks  until  our 
father  got  possession  of  a  log  house  built  by  Mr.  Couch  on 
our  land  near  the  old  place  where  we  were  captured  by 
the  Indians. 

In  this  log  house  we  undertook  to  establish  another 
home.  The  care  of  the  house  and  children  was  largely 
entrusted  to  me.  My  father  had  exhausted  his  resources  in 
his  efforts  to  recover  my  sister  and  me,  as  the  pursuit  was 
a  long  and  expensive  one  aside  from  the  money  and  horses 
turned  over  to  the  Indians  as  our  ransom.  Therefore  my 
father  had  to  accept  gainful  work  where  he  could  find  it 
for  our  maintenance,  and  we  lived  largely  alone.  The  In¬ 
dians  were  still  dangerous,  and  at  regular  intervals  continued 
their  depredations  upon  the  frontier  settlers.  To  suppress 
such  and  protect  the  Texas  frontier  the  United  States  gov¬ 
ernment  began  the  erection  of  a  fort  at  Buffalo  Springs, 
Clay  County,  Texas.  My  father  was  engaged  on  this  work, 
and  to  this  place  we  removed  with  the  family  of  Mr.  John 
White.  The  war  department  decided  that  the  army  post 
should  be  further  out  and  abandoned  the  project  at  Buffalo 
Springs.  Instead  they  established  Fort  Richardson  at  Jacks- 
boro,  Texas,  and  we  moved  thither.  Father  continued  in 

service  of  the  government  for  some  months  and  I  and 
the  children  kept  house  for  him.  We  had  a  few  cattle 
scattered  over  the  range  and  looked  after  by  my  brother, 
who  worked  for  the  Earharts.  In  the  spring  of  1868  father 
arranged  with  George  Stephens,  who  lived  near  Decatur,  to  - 
to  take  my  sisters  into  his  home,  and  that  released  me  to 
engage  in  work  for  myself. 

I  began  work  with  my  brother  and  Baus  Baker,  and 
shortly  thereafter  we  commenced  gathering  cattle  for  a  drive 
to  Kansas  markets.  As  the  cattle  were  gathered  they  were 


In  the  Bosom  of  the  Comanches 


69 


driven  to  and  herded  on  Hog  Eye  prairie  in  Jack  County. 
Here  we  accumulated  many  cattle  and  moved  them  to  a 
range  below  Decatur,  and  held  them  there  until  the  comple¬ 
tion  of  the  herd.  Assisted  by  Jim  Hall,  the  cattle  were  kept 
together  and  guarded  by  alternate  watches  day  and  night. 
We  now  had  assembled  ready  for  the  trail  some  thirty-five 
hundred  cattle,  consisting  of  cows,  calves,  yearlings,  and 
steers  from  two  to  twelve  years  old.  This  was  a  miscellan¬ 
eous  assortment  of  longhorn  cattle.  Some  of  the  older  steers 
had  such  long  and  wide  spreading  antlers  that  they  were 
frightful  to  behold,  and  in  this  day  of  short-horn  cattle  they 
would  be  a  drawing  card  in  a  museum.  The  herd  belonged 
to  five  different  owners,  Jip  Earhart,  Wit  Adair,  Jim  Hardin, 


GEO.  STEPHENS,  Decatur,  Texas 


70 


In  the  Bosom  of  the  Comanches 


Baus  Baker  and  Joe  Henry  Martin.  With  the  five  owners 
and  Lansing  Hunt,  Jim  Hall,  Booze  Earhart,  Bud  and  Jim 
Ham,  Jim  and  Ben  Fowler,  and  Cook  Brazelton,  we  started 
on  the  trail  to  Kansas  early  in  the  summer.  We  crossed 
Red  river  northwest  of  Gainesville,  and  as  usual  at  that 
season  Red  river  was  up  and  we  were  all  day  swimming  the 
cattle  over.  Our  wagon  loaded  with  supplies  and  baggage 
was  drawn  by  oxen,  as  was  usual  in  those  days,  and  after 
getting  the  herd  safely  over  the  river  the  next  big  task  was 
to  get  the  wagon  and  oxen  across.  We  procured  some  dead 
cottonwood  logs  and  tied  them  under  the  wagon  hub  on 
each  side  so  that  the  whole  outfit  would  float  like  cork. 
We  hitched  the  oxen  to  the  end  of  the  wagon  tongue  with 
a  long  chain.  Two  of  us  took  positions  on  opposite  sides 
of  the  oxen  so  as  to  point  them  across  the  river,  and  others 
got  into  the  wagon  to  weight  it  down,  and  in  this  fashion 
the  craft  and  the  crew  consisting  of  oxen  and  men  were 
launched  for  the  crossing.  The  oxen  swam  bravely  and  kept 
the  course  pointed  by  the  two  pilots,  the  logs  and  wagon 
floated  serenely,  and  everything  pointed  to  success,  until 
we  reached  the  opposite  bank  of  the  river  where  we  had  to 
untie  the  logs  to  disembark  the  wagon.  In  this  operation 
there  was  some  blundering  work,  and  the  wagon  sank  to 
the  bottom  in  deep  water.  The  water  was  so  deep  and  swift  ' 
that  we  had  to  wait  until  the  next  day  for  some  abatement 
of  the  river  that  we  might  unload  and  then  rescue  the 
wagon,  which  we  did  and  soon  proceeded  to  take  up  the 
trail  again.  We  traveled  what  was  known  as  the  Shawnee 
trail,  and  had  but  little  more  trouble  until  we  reached  Arkan¬ 
sas  river.  Before  it  was  possible  to  reach  Kansas  we  had 
frost,  and  had  to  go  into  winter  quarters  on  Rock  creek. 
There  being  only  a  settler  every  here  and  there,  we  had 
plenty  of  open  country  and  hired  settlers  to  winter  the  cat¬ 
tle  on  prairie  hay. 


In  the  Bosom  of  the  Comanches 


71 


In  the  meantime  Joe  Henry  Martin  had  moved  to  Kan¬ 
sas  on  the  White  Water  near  Augusta,  and  the  Adairs  and 
Earharts  had  moved  to  Eureka,  Kansas.  As  soon  as  the 
cattle  were  delivered  to  the  settlers  to  winter  I  started 
across  the  country  from  Eureka  to  Augusta.  There  were 
not  a  dozen  families  along  the  entire  route  I  traveled.  I 
was  in  rain  and  snow  the  entire  day’s  journey.  I  did  not 
get  through  to  Augusta  the  first  day.  I  followed  the  course 
of  the  streams  on  which  the  straggling  settlers  resided. 
The  homes  consisted  of  dugouts,  hay  houses,  log  cabins  and 
other  such  make-shifts.  As  night  approached  I  applied 
at  each  house  for  lodging  and  notwithstanding  the  sleet  and 
snow,  I  was  turned  away  by  first  one  and  then  the  other, 
each  one  saying  I  would  be  welcome  at  the  next  cabin. 
In  this  way  I  kept  going  until  darkness  was  closing  in,  and 
here  I  found  another  cabin.  I  made  known  my  desire  to 
stay  over  night,  and  received  the  same  old  answer  that  they 
did  not  have  room  but  that  I  would  find  a  house  across 
the  creek  kept  by  two  men  who  would  be  delighted  to  have 
me.  I  explained  my  predicament  and  how  I  had  been 
treated.  Being  near  desperation  I  said,  “I’ll  go  no  further 
but  right  here  I’ll  put  up  for  the  night.”  Again  my  pros¬ 
pective  host  objected,  saying  this  time  that  he  had  no  horse 
feed.  I  pointed  to  a  big  hay  stack  near  by  and  saying,  “My 
horse  could  eat  hay,”  I  dismounted.  My  grim  determination 
overcame  him,  and  he  took  my  horse  to  feed  him  and  di¬ 
rected  me  to  go  into  the  cabin.  This  I  did,  and  thence¬ 
forward  was  never  treated  more  cordially  by  anyone  than 
by  this  man  and  his  good  wife.  I  found  my  right  foot 
partially  frozen,  and  accordingly  the  wife  kept  back  the 
biscuit  from  the  stove  oven  that  I  might  use  that  space  and 
heat  to  thaw  out  my  foot  and  remove  the  boot,  a  most 
painful  operation.  With  homely  remedies  I  saved  my  foot 
and  was  able  to  walk  the  next  day,  and  also  to  get  the  boot 


72 


In  the  Bosom  of  the  Comanches 


on  by  leaving  off  the  sock.  The  next  morning  I  resumed 
my  journey  to  Augusta,  which  consisted  of  one  store  build¬ 
ing  conducted  by  Dr.  Stewart.  The  upper  story  of  this 
building  was  used  for  the  neighborhood  school.  Joe  Henry 
Martin  lived  about  one  mile  west  of  Augusta,  and  with  him 
I  established  myself  for  the  winter. 

With  the  coming  of  Spring  and  grass  I  went  to  Eureka, 
got  a  yoke  of  oxen  and  drove  them  to  Lawrence, 
Kansas,  where  the  herd  had  been  collected  from  the 
various  sections  in  which  the  cattle  had  been  win¬ 
tered.  There  were  now  fifteen  hundred  head  of  Texas  steers 
from  four  to  twelve  years  old  that  we  had  driven  from 
Texas  the  year  before.  These  steers  belonged  to  Baus  Baker 
and  were  driven  on  through  Kansas  to  Lee  Summit,  Mis¬ 
souri,  by  Reece  Barton  and  me  after  we  had  herded  them 
until  they  fattened  on  the  grass.  In  driving  through  Kan¬ 
sas  we  had  much  stubborn  opposition.  The  Kansas  settlers 
were  afraid  of  Texas  fever  in  cattle,  but  it  was  understood 
that  Texas  cattle  wintered  in  Kansas  were  safe  and  were 
permissable.  Our  greatest  difficulty  was  in  convincing  the 
Kansans  we  had  wintered  the  herd  in  Kansas.  Now  and 
then  they  would  meet  us  ten  and  twenty  strong  with  shot 
guns,  bull  dogs,  and  other  devices  of  destruction,  but  being 
from  Texas  with  the  terror  of  Texas  cowboys  we  bluffed 
them  with  our  old  cap-and-ball  six-shooters  and  moved  right 
along  to  our  destination  without  a  scratch.  We  shipped 
about  half  the  herd  from  Lee  Summit  to  St.  Louis,  and 
here  we  fell  in  with  a  man  by  name  of  Charley  Dunlap,  a 
Mexican  reared  in  Texas,  who  had  four  hundred  Texas 
steers.  We  consolidated  the  remainder  of  our  steers  with 
Dunlap’s,  and  drove  overland  to  Kansas  City  and  from 
there  shipped  to  St.  Louis  via  North  Missouri  railroad. 
I  went  to  St.  Louis  with  Mr.  Baker,  the  owner  of  our 
cattle.  In  Kansas  City  we  put  up  at  the  State  Line  hotel, 


In  the  Bosom  of  the  Comanches 


73 


An  Ex-Warrior  and  His  Family 


74 


In  the;.  Bosom  of  the;  Comanches 


where  we  remained  three  or  four  days  while  getting  the  cattle 
shipped.  We  held  our  cattle  in  the  valley  between  the 
mouth  of  Turkey  creek  and  Kansas  City  along  the  Kaw 
river.  Wyandotte  was  located  on  the  hill  just  across  the 
Kaw  river  from  Kansas  City.  At  that  time  there  was 
neither  live  stock  exchange  nor  stock  yards,  there  being 
merely  shipping  pens.  As'  before  stated  we  shipped  the 
cattle  over  the  North  Missouri  railroad  and  crossed  the 
Missouri  river  on  the  bridge.  On  reaching  St.  Charles,  Mis¬ 
souri,  we  crossed  back,  this  time  on  ferry  boats,  four  cars 
of  cattle  at  a  time.  Our  cattle  were  unloaded  in  the  North 
Missouri  Stock  Yards  and  then  driven  on  foot  up  town 
to  the  sale  yards.  At  that  time  in  St.  Louis  there  were 
only  the  North  Missouri  and  Pacific  Stock  Yards.  I  assisted 
the  boys  in  driving  cattle  from  both  yards  up  to  the  city. 
There  was  no  bridge  over  the  Mississippi  at  St.  Louis  at 
that  time,  but  they  had  just  started  work  on  the  first 
bridge.  The  cattle  were  ferried  over  the  river,  some  loose 
in  the  boats  and  others  in  the  cars  rolled  on  to  the  boats. 
East  St.  Louis  was  then  a  small  village.  I  remained  in 
St.  Louis  about  two  weeks,  and  had  a  fine  time  assisting 
the  boys  handle  cattle.  I  was  supplied  with  a  good  horse, 
but  my  saddle  was  what  the  cowboys  call  a  human  saddle, 
which  was  next  thing  to  being  bare-back.  I  also  had  fine 
sport  rowing,  canoeing,  and  swimming  in  the  Mississippi 
river,  and  did  not  want  to  leave. 

Mr.  Baker,  my  boss,  said  the  time  had  come  for  us  to 
depart,  and  we  did  so  by  way  of  Kansas  City,  where  we 
joined  our  outfit  for  the  return  trip  to  Texas,  the  greatest 
state  the  sun  ever  shone  upon.  Reunited  with  our  outfit 
we  started  for  Texas.  All  in  the  party  were  Texans  except 
Reece  Barton.  In  the  party  were  Baus  Baker,  Jim  and 
Charley  Burton,  Nigger  Cap,  myself,  and  six  or  eight  others. 
We  crossed  Kansas  and  what  was  then  known  as  Indian 


In  the  Bosom  oe  the  Comanches 


75 


Nation.  We  came  by  Parsons,  Kansas,  at  which  point  there 
was  then  only  one  merchandise  store.  The  return  journey 
was  most  delightful  and  at  times  exciting,  as  game,  big  and 
small,  abounded  in  indescribable  plenty  on  every  hand  and 
everywhere,  to  say  nothing  of  fish  in  every  stream.  We 
traveled  in  a  leisurely  fashion,  and  employed  our  time  shoot¬ 
ing  and  feasting  on  the  choicest  game  of  all  the  land.  This, 
coupled  with  the  wild  solitudes  of  the  vast  untenanted  region 
we  traversed,  made  the  trip  one  never  to  be  forgotten.  At 
length  we  reached  Red  river,  the  Texas  boundary,  and 
crossed  into  Texas  at  Colbert’s  Ferry,  north  of  Sherman. 
After  landing  in  Texas  we  started  for  Decatur,  touching  at 
Sherman,  Denton,  and  Pilot  Point.  Upon  arriving  at 
Decatur  I  took  my  two  sisters  and  established  a  home  for 


Comanche  Medicine  Man  and  Tepee. 


76  In  the  Bosom  oe  the  Comanches 

them  and  me.  My  father,  having  lost  everything  at  the 
hands  of  the  Indians,  did  work  on  the  outside  wherever 
available  for  the  needful  support  of  my  sisters,  and  could 
therefore  be  at  home  with  them  but  little.  In  this  way 
we  lived  for  about  two  years,  when  father  decided  to  take 
my  sisters  to  relatives  in  Wisconsin. 

Thus  I  was  once  more  given  my  liberty  to  set  out  and 
do  for  myself.  My  brother,  H.  C.  Babb,  was  working  with 
cattle  on  the  range  for  Dan  Waggoner.  I  joined  my  brother 
in  this  work  in  1870.  In  1871  Joe  Loving  made  a  deal  with 
Mr.  Waggoner  to  take  charge  and  handle  the  cattle  for  a 
period  of  five  years  on  the  shares.  I  was  engaged  by  Mr. 
Loving,  and  continued  with  the  outfit.  We  had  considerable 
trouble  with  the  Indians,  who  would  break  in  now  and  then 
and  steal  our  horses.  In  the  Fall  of  1871  Joe  Loving  took 
me  and  two  more  hands  and  joining  Frank  Mull  of  Parker 
County  with  four  hands,  whose  names  were  John  and  Henry 
Strickland,  Dave  and  Mat  Loftin,  together  with  pack  horses 
and  four  extra  saddle  horses  each,  we  started  for  a  round¬ 
up  of  Jack  and  Palo  Pinto  Counties.  We  gathered  all  the 
big  early  calves  we  could  find  that  were  not  marked  or 
branded.  We  took  in  the  mothers  of  some  of  the  calves 
and  some  we  did  not.  When  we  did  not  want  the  mother 
cows  we  cut  them  back,  and  if  they  returned  we  shot  them 
in  the  nose  or  punched  them.  In  this  manner  we  gathered 
about  five  hundred  “mavericks”,  and  drove  them  to  the 
ranch  in  Wise  County,  where  we  marked  and  branded  them, 
putting  on  the  marks  and  brands  of  Mr.  Waggoner  and  Mr. 
Mull.  Having  finished  this  job,  Joe  Loving  took  an  outfit 
and  went  in  below  Decatur  and  brought  back  all  the  big 
calves  he  could  see  or  get,  regardless  of  who  owned  them. 
Very  soon  the  citizens  discovered  their  calves  were  gone  and 
learned  who  had  gotten  them,  and  so  angry  were  they  that 
there  was  talk  of  mobbing  Mr.  Waggoner,  who  knew  nothing 


In  xhd  Bosom  of  thf  Comanchks 


77 


whatever  of  this  stealing  of  cattle.  Mr.  Waggoner  imme¬ 
diately  bought  out  the  interest  of  Joe  Loving  and  made  just 
and  satisfactory  settlement  with  the  rightful  owners  of  the 
stolen  cattle.  By  way  of  digression  I  should  say  that  in 
the  early  days  of  the  cattle  industry  unbranded  cattle  be¬ 
longed  to  the  outfits  who  could  get  to  them  first  and  then 
have  the  means  in  the  way  of  enough  fighting  men  to  hold 
and  keep  them.  After  such  a  fashion  many  of  the  great  herds 
and  fortunes  in  cattle  were  started  and  reinforced  from  time 
to  time. 

In  1872  Mr.  Waggoner  decided  to  move  his  cattle  to 
the  far  West  and  this  he  did  by  driving  to  Clay  and  Wichita 
Counties  and  locating  there.  I  went  with  the  second  herd, 
and  we  arrived  at  Big  Wichita  river  just  below  the  present 
city  of  Wichita  Falls,  October  10th,  1872.  I  remained  with 
the  cattle  the  winter  that  followed  and  was  assisted  by  my 
brother  H.  C.  Babb,  and  cousin,  Tom  Babb,  Sam  Merrick, 
and  Jim  Barrenton,  half-breed  Cherokee  Indian.  During 
the  winter  the  cattle  gave  us  but  little  trouble,  as  grass  and 
water  were  everywhere  plentiful.  There  was  not  then  a  wire 
fence  between  Red  river  and  the  Gulf  of  Mexico.  Will  and 
Lish  Ikard  came  in  with  a  small  bunch  of  cattle  just  below 
us  that  winter.  Jim  Curtis  also  brought  some  cattle  the 
same  winter,  which  he  located  in  the  forks  of  Wichita  and 
Red  rivers  not  far  from  us.  In  the  Spring  of  1873  Waggoner 
brought  up  another  herd  and  about  the  first  of  April  we 
commenced  to  gather  a  herd  to  be  driven  to  Kansas.  When 
they  were  gathered  on  the  south  side  of  Wichita  river  and 
in  readiness  for  the  start,  it  began  raining  and  rained  hard 
for  two  days.  We  waited  for  the  rain  to  subside,  but  on 
April  9th  the  rain  turned  into  a  heavy  snow  which  con¬ 
tinued  until  the  fall  of  snow  reached  ten  inches.  We  there¬ 
fore  turned  the  herd  loose  and  when  we  overtook  them  the 

/ 

next  day  we  had  to  travel  thirty  miles.  This  will  indicate 


78 


In  the  Bosom  oe  the  Comanches 


how  swiftly  cattle  drift  with  a  snow  storm.  We  were  four 
days  getting  the  cattle  back  and  ready  for  another  start. 
We  lost  some  ten  horses  frozen  to  death  in  the  snow,  and 
in  recovering  our  cattle  we  came  in  contact  with  about 
twenty  men  who  had  run  up  from  the  south  to  see  if  we 
had  stolen  any  of  their  cattle.  They  had  their  trouble  for 
nothing  as  we  had  no  cattle  but  our  own. 

We  were  again  ready  to  start  for  Kansas  on  April  14th,  and 
that  night  the  Indians  stole  all  the  horses  we  did  not  have 
tied  up.  On  the  morning  of  the  15th  very  early  old  Nigger 
Sarny  Kirby  and  I  were  out  to  ride  around  the  cattle  when 
we  met  four  or  five  hundred  steers  running  from  towards 
Red  river.  These  steers  belonged  to  Will  and  Lish  Ikard 
who  had  also  started  to  Kansas,  when  the  Indians  the  night 
before  had  raided  them,  taking  all  their  loose  horses  and  a 
few  that  were  together  out  on  the  grass  with  saddles  on 
them.  So  being  unhorsed  and  in  a  bad  plight  both  outfits 
had  to  halt  and  go  to  Wise  and  Parker  Counties  for  a 
recruit  in  horses  before  it  was  possible  to  start  the  herds.  We 
were  only  45  miles  from  Fort  Sill,  Indian  Territory,  where 
the  United  States  government  had  a  large  army  post  for 
supposed  protection  of  keeping  the  Indians  under  control, 
and  this  will  denote  how  well  they  succeeded.  We  soon 
saw  we  would  have  to  provide  our  own  protection  and  look 
sharply  out  for  our  scalps,  or  lose  them,  as  others  had  done. 
About  this  time  the  Indians  on  a  raid  killed  and  scalped  a 
man  by  name  of  Alison,  on  Pond  creek  between  the  present 
cities  of  Wichita  Falls  and  Iowa  Park  in  Wichita  County. 
On  the  same  raid  they  chased  Ed  Terret,  who  outran  them 
and  escaped  to  Missouri,  where  he  would  have  to  be  shown 
in  the  future.  These  men  were  working  for  Glen  Halsell  at 
the  time  of  the  raid. 

In  the  summer  of  1873  Pat  Kemp,  Harry  Green,  Tom 
Flannery  and  I  had  charge  of  and  guarded  the  cattle  just. 


In  the:  Bosom  of  thf  Comanches 


79 


JIMMIE  ROBERTS 

Born  in  Mississippi,  January  3d,  1852.  Came  to  Texas  1870,  and 
entered  employ  of  Dan  Waggoner  1871,  and  continued  with  him 
for  many  years,  rising  eventually  to  ranch  manager  and  foreman. 
During  this  period  Mr.  Roberts  and  Mr.  Babb  were  closely  asso¬ 
ciated  and  fast  friends.  Jimmie  Roberts  was  noted  for  his  bravery 
and  daring  as  a  buffalo  hunter  and  Indian  fighter,  and  was  also  a 
terror  to  cattle  thieves  and  other  bad  men  with  whom  he  had 
many  encounters,  and  all  of  which  he  survived.  As  he  is  to-day  a 
prosperous  citizen  of  both  Texas  and  Western  Canada,  having  prop¬ 
erty  and  business  interests  in  both,  Jimmie  Roberts  is  a  notable 
example  of  the  type  of  fearless,  cool,  dependable  men  who  at  length 
reclaimed  and  civilized  the  Wild  West. 


80 


In  thf  Bosom  of  thf  Comanchks 


north  of  the  Wichita  river.  Many  days  we  had  to  swim 
the  river,  which  we  enjoyed  very  much.  Every  day  was 
brimful  of  excitement  of  one  kind  or  another.  If  nothing  else 
pressed,  we  chased  and  shot  down  buffalo,  antelope,  deer 
and  turkey.  The  prairies  and  plateaus  were  literally  swarm¬ 
ing  with  big  game,  while  the  valleys  and  wooded  margins 
of  the  streams  were  swarming  with  turkeys,  chickens,  and 
quail.  The  turkeys  were  so  plentiful  as  to  afford  us  an 
abundance  of  fresh  eggs  whenever  we  wanted  them  to  eat. 
No  such  abundance  of  game  had  been  found  in  any  known 
locality,  and  we  killed  not  only  for  food  but  pastime.  In 
the  Fall  Pat  Kemp  left  us  and  went  to  South  Texas,  and  in 
the  winter  Bill  Graham  took  his  place.  Harry  Green  went 
to  work  for  the  Ikards  and  Jimmie  Roberts  took  his  place, 
and  in  the  winter  of  1873  Jimmie  Roberts,  Tom  Flannery 
Bill  Graham,  and  I  looked  after  the  cattle  and  kept  them 
together. 

Aside  from  other  thrilling  experiences  there  was  now  and 
then  a  tragedy  interspersed  which  added  zest  and  variety 
to  the  arduous  as  well  as  hazardous  lives  we  lived  in  those 
times  of  stress  and  peril.  I  recall  one  tragedy  in  particular 
as  having  features  partaking  of  both  the  pathetic  and  comic. 
In  April  1873,  Mr.  Dan  Waggoner  came  up  to  the  ranch 
from  Decatur  to  look  over  the  cattle  and  conditions  gen¬ 
erally.  He  traveled  in  a  buggy  accompanied  by  Col.  Booth 
and  a  very  small  man  whose  name  I  have  forgotten.  Mr. 
Waggoner  as  usual  had  his  old  shotgun  with  him.  While 
Mr.  Waggoner,  Booth  and  their  companion  were  away  from 
camp  looking  over  the  cattle,  Joe  Scamkaskey,  the  Dutch 
cook,  and  Jack  Scott  engaged  in  an  angry  quarrel  over  a 
saddle.  Jack  applied  an  unmentionable  epithet  to  Joe,  who 
ran  at  Jack  for  a  fight.  Jack  then  drew  two  cap-and-ball 
six-shooters  and  cocking  them  in  Joe’s  face,  said,  “You 
Dutch  worlf,  my  name  is  Jack,  who  is  always  ready.”  Joe 


In  the:  Bosom  of  the;  Comanchfs 


81 


backed  away  from  the  six-shooters  and  retreated  to  the  camp 
fire,  as  it  was  a  bitterly  cold  day.  Thinking  the  difficulty  had 
ended,  Jack,  Pat  Kemp  and  I  went  into  the  tent  where  we 
slept.  We  were  talking  along  when  Joe  jumped  into  the 
tent  with  Waggoner’s  shotgun  and  said,  “Take  back  your 
abuse  of  me,  Shack.”  As  Jack  started  to  draw  his  six- 
shooters,  Joe  let  drive  with  one  barrel  of  the  shotgun  at  Jack, 
and  the  charge  tore  off  Jack’s  coat  sleeve  and  then  into  the 
ground,  taking  with  it  one  of  my  boot  heels.  At  this  Joe 
sprang  out  of  the  tent,  threw  down  the  gun,  and  ran  for  a 
saddled  horse  standing  near.  Jack  was  hotly  pursuing  Joe, 
having  shot  at  him  twice  when  Joe  abandoned  the  horse  and 
fled  into  the  brush  with  Jack  after  him.  Jack  shot  at  Joe 
five  or  six  times  in  the  chase,  missing  every  time.  Even¬ 
tually  the  Dutchman  distanced  Jack  and  got  back  to  the 
shotgun,  picking  it  up  just  as  Jack  approached.  With  shot¬ 
gun  in  hand,  Joe  said,  “Stop,  Shack,  I  don’t  want  to  kill 
you.”  Jack,  instead  of  stopping,  leveled  his  pistol,  which 
failed  to  fire.  As  he  did  so,  Joe  pulled  the  shotgun  trigger 
and  twelve  buckshot  pierced  Jack  under  the  right  arm,  from 
which  he  sank  upon  the  ground,  holding  a  cocked  revolver 
in  each  hand.  I  said,  “Jack,  are  you  hurt?”  And  his  dying 
answer  was,  “The  Dutch  hyena  has  killed  me.”  This  took 
place  about  ten  o’clock  in  the  morning.  In  the  afternoon 
we  rolled  Jack’s  remains  into  a  blanket,  and  buried  them  in 
a  slough  four  or  five  miles  below  where  Wichita  Falls  now 
stands. 

My  cousin,  T.  C.  Babb,  and  I  found  Jack  Scott  in  the 
winter  of  1872  near  where  the  city  of  Henrietta  now  is. 
He  wore  Indian  moccasins  and  good  clothes,  being  without 
gun  or  pistol  and  afoot.  We  took  him  to  our  camp  where 
he  remained  until  he  was  killed.  He  helped  around  the 
camp  and  seemed  a  man  who  had  been  well  reared.  He  had 
varied  accomplishments,  among  which  was  that  of  the  buck 


82 


In  the:  Bosom  oe*  the:  Comanche;s 


dancer.  My  cousin  was  a  fiddler,  and  many  dreary  hours 
in  this  isolated  camp  life  in  the  wilderness  were  passed  with 
the  dancing  of  Jack  to  the  music  of  my  cousin’s  fiddle. 
Jack  was  about  thirty  years  old,  and  said  he  was  from  Kan¬ 
sas.  He  may  have  had  a  mother  and  father,  brothers  and 
sisters,  who  looked  for  his  return  in  vain,  and  who  never 
knewr  of  his  fate,  and  his  last  lonely  resting  place  in  nature’s 
wildest  solitude. 

During  these  times  we  had  frequent  encounters  and 
narrow  escapes  from  the  Indians,  and  so  evident  was  the 
peril  that  it  was  difficult  to  keep  a  sufficient  number  of  men 
on  the  ranch.  However,  Jimmie  Roberts,  Tom  Flannery, 
Nigger  Cap,  Lem  Fowler  and  I  remained  on  the  job;  and 
at  times  when  others  would  not,  regardless  of  pay  or 
pleading. 

As  a  digression,  and  also  as  illustrative  of  the  wildness 
and  remoteness  of  this  extreme  frontier  civilization,  and  the 
protecting  arm  of  an  organized  government,  I  shall  relate 
an  incident  in  which  a  fellow  employee  named  Pat  Kemp 
figured  with  me.  In  the  Spring  of  1873  Pat  and  I  were  not 
closely  occupied,  and  decided  we  would  travel  about,  learn¬ 
ing  more  of  our  unknown  surroundings.  One  day  our 
explorations  carried  us  up  Red  river  and  at  the  mouth  of 
China  creek  we  wrere  taking  in  a  large  scope  of  country  with 
our  field  glasses  when  we  discovered  a  company  of  United 
States  soldiers  camped  at  Fort  Augur  across  Red  river,  on 
the  Indian  Territory  side.  Acting  on  the  impulse  we  pro¬ 
ceeded  to  cross  the  river  and  pay  them  a  visit.  As  soon  as 
the  soldiers  saw  us  approaching  from  the  distance,  the  bugle 
was  sounded  and  some  eighty  cavalrymen  put  out  in  our 
direction,  meeting  us  in  about  one  mile  from  the  fort, 
whither  they  escorted  us.  We  had  our  noon-day  meal  with 
the  soldiers,  and  early  in  the  afternoon  we  remarked  the 
time  had  come  for  us  to  return  to  our  ranch  duties  on  the 


In  thd  Bosom  of  the;  Comanchfs 


83 


Chief  Quanah  Parker  and  three  of  his  six  wives,  the  one  in  the  center  being  a  daughter  of  the  notorious  Chief 

Horseback. 


84 


In  the  Bosom  oe  the  Comanches 


Texas  side.  The  captain  inquired,  “Whose  ranch,  and  how 
far  distant?”  We  explained  the  ranch  belonged  to  Dan 
Waggoner  and  was  located  on  the  Big  Wichita  river,  some 
twenty-five  miles  away.  The  captain  said  that  there  could 
be  no  such  ranch  or  he  would  have  known  of  it,  and  directed 
us  to  remain  and  go  under  guard  the  following  day  to  Fort 
Sill.  I  inquired  why  we  should  be  detained  and  sent  to  Fort 
Sill,  and  his  answer  was  that  we  could  then  give  an  account 
of  ourselves  and  establish  whether  or  not  we  were  Indian 
spies.  I  replied  that  we  were  not  Indian  spies,  though  we 
saw  Indians  most  every  day  and  did  our  best  to  keep  away 
form  and  out  of  sight  of  them.  I  further  emphasized  that 
we  were  nothing  more  or  less  than  ranch  hands,  and  urged 
that  we  be  released  to  return  to  the  cattle  under  our  care 
and  protection.  The  captain  ordered  us  to  remain  till  next 
morning,  which  of  course  we  had  to  do,  and  when  the  morn¬ 
ing  had  come  the  captain  announced  his  decision  to  send 
us  to  Fort  Sill.  I  said,  “Captain,  we  will  obey  your  orders, 
but  we  wish  you  to  send  us  by  the  ranch  headquarters,  so 
we  can  explain  our  absence  from  the  ranch,  otherwise  there 
would  be  apprehension  that  we  had  been  slain  by  the  In¬ 
dians,  and  no  little  search  made  for  us  by  rescuing  parties, 
composed  of  our  co-workers  on  the  ranch.”  The  captain 
said  bluntly,  “There  is  no  ranch,  and  consequently  no  one 
to  notify,  and  I’ll  therefore  send  you  directly  to  Fort  Sill.” 
I  protested,  and  disavowed  our  being  liars,  and  at  this  junc¬ 
ture  Pat  Kemp  said,  “Captain,  you  are  a  d - d  liar,  if 

you  say  there  is  no  ranch  over  there,  as  we  have  stated,” 
and  the  captain  stated  that  a  “little  stay  in  the  guard  house 
will  do  you  good,  young  fellow.” 

I  undertook  to  smooth  matters,  and  proposed  that  we 
be  sent  to  the  divide,  where  our  log  ranch  house  could  be 
seen  through  the  field  glass,  just  as  we  had  discovered  the 
fort.  The  captain  agreed  to  this,  but  warned  us  beforehand 


In  the  Bosom  of  the  Comanches 


85 


that  if  the  ranch  house  failed  to  show  up  our  punishment 
would  be  severe.  We  were  impatient,  and  said,  “All  right, 
let’s  be  going,  and  before  starting  give  back  to  us  our  guns.” 
The  captain  handed  us  our  guns,  but  kept  our  ammunition, 
saying  that  if  we  had  stated  the  truth  as  to  the  ranch  house 
he  would  deliver  the  ammunition  as  he  had  released  us. 
Pat  says,  “Captain,  if  we  meet  or  see  any  Indians  will  you 
give  us  our  cartridges?”  “I  guess  so,”  answered  the  Cap¬ 
tain,  and  Pat  said,  “If  you  don’t,  we  will  outrun  the  Indians, 
as  we  have  done  before.”  The  captain  being  interested, 
said,  “Did  you  ever  outrun  the  Indians.”  And  Pat  declared 
that  had  the  captain  witnessed  the  race  he  would  surely  have 
decided  in  our  favor.  Pat  said  further,  “One  time  Babb 
and  I  were  together,  and  Babb  was  mounted  on  a  good  fast 
horse,  and  I  on  an  old  slow  stud  pony,  and  I  said,  £Babb, 
don’t  run  off  and  leave  me,’  and  Babb  answered,  T  won’t/ 
and  he  did  not  either,  and  by  holding  our  ground  we  stood 
off  sixty  Indians,  and  did  not  have  to  kill  them  to  do  it.” 
Under  escort  of  forty  soldiers  we  put  out  in  direction  of  the 
ranch,  and  when  we  reached  the  divide  about  sixteen  miles 
from  the  ranch,  we  showed  them  the  old  cottonwood  log 
ranch  house  covered  with  dirt,  in  plain  view  to  all,  and  the 
officer  in  charge  said  he  was  convinced.  Upon  his  handing 
us  our  cartridges,  we  bade  the  soldiers  farewell,  and  in  a 
brisk  gallop  made  our  way  to  the  ranch  headquarters,  where 
we  were  warmly  received  by  our  associates.  They  were 
gratified  that  we  were  unharmed  and  back  with  them  for 
the  work,  and  the  added  defense  against  the  Indians. 

*  As  Fort  Augur  was  one  of  the  earlier  outposts  during 
the  stirring  Indian  days,  a  brief  description  of  it  should 
prove  both  instructing  and  interesting.  This  fort  occupied 
an  eminence  on  the  north  side  of  Red  river,  just  below 
the  mouth  of  Augur  creek.  The  fort  was  surrounded  by 
entrenchments  about  six  feet  each  in  depth  and  width,  with 


86 


In  the  Bosom  oe  the  Comanches 


the  dirt  thrown  up  high  on  the  outside  for  breastworks. 
From  the  fort  a  trench  some  six  feet  deep  led  down  hill  to 
a  big  running  spring,  from  which  the  water  supply  was 
derived.  This  trench  was  to  prevent  being  cut  off  from 
water  in  case  of  a  siege  or  a  long  sustained  attack  by  the 
Indians.  Outside  of  the  fort  and  all  around  were  holes 
some  five  feet  deep  and  four  feet  square,  further  protected 
with  poles  about  four  feet  high.  In  these  holes  soldiers  did 
picket  duty  for  the  fort.  The  soldiers  were  taking  no  chances 
of  being  surprised  and  scalped  by  the  Indians,  whereas  we 
cowboya  rode  the  ranges  either  singly  or  in  groups  of  two  or 
three  and  frequently  slept  out  at  night,  with  neither  shelter 
nor  protection,  and  no  bedding  except  the  blanket  always 
carried  attached  to  the  saddle.  Of  course  all  this  was 
attended  by  great  danger,  but  being  a  part  of  the  game  we 
could  not  and  did  not  falter.  We  were  always  prepared  and 
ready  to  fight,  as  we  did  do  frequently,  with  hair-breadth 
escapes.  It  is  astonishing  how  one  can  become  so  accus¬ 
tomed  to  peri)  as  to  go  right  along,  perfectly  resigned  to  any 
fate  or  eventuality.  The  Indians  had  a  far  more  wholesome 
fear  and  dread  of  a*  few  cowboys  than  of  many  regiments  of 
soldiers. 

The  hardy  Celt,  Pat  Kemp,  who  for  so  long  a  time 
was  my  constant  companion,  was  wholly  insensible  to  fear 
and  danger,  and  our  very  recklessness  and  daredevil  methods 
awed  and  intimidated  the  Indians  and  more  than  once  saved 
our  lives.  Pat  and  I  were  one  day  further  exploring  the 
beauties  and  wilds  of  Red  River  valley  when  to  our  utter 
surprise  we  beheld  a  small  peach  orchard,  the  trees  heavily 
laden  with  luscious  ripe  peaches.  This  was  in  July  of  1873, 
and  the  orchard  was  situated  a  few  miles  north  of  the 
present  city  of  Wichita  Falls.  At  first  we  could  scarcely 
believe  our  eyes,  not  being  able  to  realize  the  possibility  of 
a  peach  orchard  beyond  the  boundaries  of  all  civilized 


> 


In  the;  Bosom  oe'  the;  Comanches 


87 


human  habitation.  We  partook  of  the  peaches  and  were 
convinced  and  a  rarer  and  greater  treat  was  never  enjoyed. 
We  explored  a  little  more  and  found  an  abandoned  log  hut 
overlooking  Red  river,  which  hut  no  doubt  still  stands 
intact.  We  afterwards  learned  that  a  venturesome  man  by 
the  name  of  Gilbert  undertook  to  establish  a  home  at  that 
place.  After  living  there  two  or  three  years  undisturbed 
he  was  discovered  by  the  Indians  and  with  his  family,  barely 
escaped  to  the  white  settlements  in  the  vicinity  of  Gaines¬ 
ville. 

In  the  Spring  of  1874  Clay  County  was  organized,  as  the 
farthest  western  organized  county,  and  Henrietta  was  estab¬ 
lished  as  the  county  seat,  where  a  short  time  before  the 
pioneer  Cusier  family  was  broken  up  by  the  Indians.  Some 
of  the  members  were  massacred,  while  the  others  were  carried 
into  captivity.  At  Henrietta  a  small  log  house  was  erected 
for  the  sessions  of  the  court,  presided  over  by  Judge  Lindsay, 
as  the  first  judge,  and  with  L.  C.  Barrett,  now  of  AmarillOj 
as  one  of  the  first  practicing  attorneys  at  Henrietta  bar.  It 
happened  that  I  was  one  of  the  first  jury  to  serve,  and  then 
also  had  my  first  jury  service.  There  was  no  felony  docket 
the  first  session,  the  term  of  the  court  being  engaged  in 
misdemeanor  cases  solely.  We  members  of  the  jury  gave 
verdicts  of  guilty  for  all  with  minimum  fines  in  each  case. 
For  jury  service  in  the  first  session  of  the  court,  now  more 
than  thirty-eight  years  ago,  I  have  not  drawn  my  scrip, 
which,  with  interest  compounded,  would  to-day  make  a 
comfortable  sum,  if  collected. 

A  great  deal  has  been  said  and  written  with  reference 
to  the  methods  employed  by  the  old-time  or  original  cow¬ 
men  in  accumulating  and  increasing  their  herds.  I  am  in 
position  to  speak  with  authority  on  this  subject,  and  would 
say  they  were  naturally  as  honest  as  the  average  of  men. 
They  were  creatures  of  environment  and  proceeded  along 


88 


In  thf  Bosom  of  thf  Comanchfs 


customary  lines,  as  men  have  always  done  before  and  since. 
It  was  the  custom  to  take  dry  cows  and  strays,  also  mave¬ 
ricks,  which  were  cattle  that  may  have  been  marked  but 
unbranded.  The  idea  or  plan  was  to  take  in  and  properly 


Mrs.  T.  A.  (Dot)  Babb  was  born  December  31st,  1858,  and  is 
descended  from  that  sturdy  pioneer  stock  from  whom  Texas  and 
all  other  states  of  this  union  derived  the  elements  of  strength  and 
greatness.  Reference  is  made  in  another  place  in  this  narrative 
to  Aunt  Ibbie  Gordon,  Mrs.  Babb’s  paternal  grandmother,  a  very 


In  the;  Bosom  of  the;  Comanchfs 


89 


MRS.  T.  A.  (Dot)  BABB 

notable  and  illustrious  woman  of  the  trying  and  strenuous  early 
days  of  Texas.  Another  conspicuous  ancestor  is  John  Hanks,  the 
maternal  grandfather  of  Mrs.  Babb.  An  heirloom  very  highly 
treasured  by  Mrs.  Babb  is  herein  reproduced  in  the  form  of  a 
Commission  of  Justice  of  the  Peace  of  the  township  of  Sevier, 
Miller  County,  Arkansas,  issued  by  Governor  Crittenden,  Territorial 
Governor  of  Arkansas,  at  Little  Rock,  Oct.  21st,  1824. 

Thus  it  can  be  seen  88  years  ago  Mrs.  Babb’s  forebears  were 
serving  their  country  with  credit  and  fortitude  on  the  border 
line  of  an  ever  broadening  West.  Mrs.  Babb  at  54  is  remarkably 
well  preserved  and  true  to  the  inherent  spirit  of  heredity  is  ever 
on  the  alert  for  the  best  channels  for  the  exercise  and  direction 
of  her  energies,  looking  to  the  betterment  of  mankind  and  a  higher 
and  stabler  civilization  generally. 


90 


In  the  Bosom  oe  the  Comanches 


mark  and  brand  and  appropriate  such  cattle  before  the 
real  cattle  thief  could  do  the  same  thing.  At  that  time 
there  was  no  law  against  stealing  cattle,  but  there  was  an 
unwritten  law  that  was  severe  enough  when  the  thief  was 
actually  caught  in  the  very  act  of  stealing  the  cattle.  Es¬ 
pecially  rigorous  was  this  law  when  invoked  or  applied  in 
case  of  the  professional  or  weaker  thief,  who  paid  the  penalty 
dangling  at  the  end  of  a  rope  over  a  limb  of  a  tree,  or  was 
doubled  up  by  the  ball  of  a  Winchester  or  revolver.  As 
best  I  can  recall,  in  August  of  1874  was  the  last  Indian 
raid  with  fatal  results.  This  raid  was  through  Montague 
and  Wise  Counties,  and  being  taken  unaware,  the  entire 
Huff  family  was  killed  by  the  Indians.  At  that  time  I  was 
still  on  the  ranch  in  Wichita  County. 

In  the  Fall  of  1874  I  discontinued  the  work  on  the  ranch 

*  (  .  :\. .  .  rVi 

and  returned  to  Wise  County.  There  was  then  but  three 
families  residing  between  Wichita  and  Wise  Counties,  a 
distance  of  eighty  or  ninety  miles.  At  first  I  did  not  seem 
to  fit  in  just  right  in  a  community  of  civilized  people,  but 
gradually  I  learned  to  adapt  myself  to  the  prevailing  con¬ 
ditions,  and  being  susceptible  to  the  charms  of  the  girls 
I  met  became  more  than  reconciled.  To  be  sure,  there 
were  not  many  girls,  as  there  were  not  many  families,  but 
there  were  enough  to  interest  and  engage  me,  and  above 
all,  one  in  particular,  to  whom  I  addressed  unwavering  and 
ever  increasing  attention.  On  October  7,  1875,  I  was  mar¬ 
ried  to  Miss  Pattie  Graham,  the  seventeen  year  old  daughter 
of  Mrs.  M.  A.  Graham,  at  old  Bridgeport,  Wise  County, 
Texas. 

My  wife’s  mother  was  a  native  Texan,  and  was  married 
in  Red  River  County,  Texas,  before  the  Mexican  War. 
Her  mother  was  Mrs.  Isabella  Gordon,  better  known  as 
1823,  being  then  eighteen  years  of  age.  So  distinguished 
Aunt  Ibbie  Gordon,  and  came  to  Texas  with  her  father  in 


In  the  Bosom  of  the  Comanches 


91 


was  Aunt  Ibbie  Gordon,  my  wife’s  maternal  grandmother, 
in  the  early  annals  of  Texas,  that  I  deem  it  entirely  appro¬ 
priate  to  reproduce  a  part  of  the  biographical  sketch  appear¬ 
ing  in  a  book  now  extant,  entitled  “Prominent  Women  of 
Texas,”  written  by  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Brooks,  as  follows: 


MRS.  GRAHAM,  Mother  of  Mrs.  Dot  Babb 


92 


In  thf  Bosom  of  thf  Comanchks 


The  Hopkins  family  came  to  Texas  from  Kentucky  when 
that  was  made  a  free  state,  they  being  slave  holders.  Hop¬ 
kins  County,  Texas,  was  named  for  L.  and  Dick  Hopkins, 
uncles  of  my  mother.  They  settled  on  a  small  creek  in 
what  is  now  Bowie  County,  the  extreme  northeastern  por¬ 
tion  of  the  state,  and  in  the  following  year  the  daughter 
married  John  Hanks,  and  the  couple  moved  to  Jonesboro, 

then  an  important  trading  post  on  the  southern  bank  of 

« 

Red  river,  and  on  the  main  line  of  travel  on  the  western 
frontier.  There  the  husband  died  three  years  later,  leaving 
one  daughter  as  the  issue  of  the  marriage,  this  daughter 
being  the  mother  of  my  wife,  Mrs.  Babb,  and  the  young 
widow  went  back  to  her  father’s  house.  Two  years  after¬ 
wards  she  married  Captain  Jim  Clark,  a  native  of  Tennessee, 
with  whom  she  returned  to  the  former  domicile  in  Jones¬ 
boro,  where  they  continued  to  abide  pending  the  preparation 
of  a  new  home  further  west.  It  was  while  living  here  that 
the  war  for  Texas  independence  began  to  be  waged,  and  it 
was  there  on  the  highway  of  travel  that  recruits  from  the 
northeast  tarried  in  their  passage  to  the  scenes  of  conflict. 
Their  zeal  added  fuel  to  Mrs.  Clark’s  patriotism,  and  her 
patriotism  gave  aid  to  their  cause.  It  was  there  that  in  1832 
one  of  the  illustrious  men  of  Texas  history  first  set  foot  on 
Texas  soil.  This  was  Sam  Houston,  American  by  birth  and 
instinct,  once  a  congressman  and  governor  of  Tennessee, 
and  already  famous  as  warrior,  statesman  and  politician. 
He  was  commissioned  by  Andrew  Jackson  to  negotiate 
trades  with  the  Indian  tribes  of  the  southwest,  and  was  on 
his  way  to  hold  conferences  with  their  chiefs.  To  reach 
the  scene  of  his  conference  he  followed  the  trail  that  led 
to  the  Indian  Territory,  and  came  to  the  northern  bank  of 
the  Red  river,  opposite  which  stood  the  trading  post  of 
Jonesboro.  He  there  fell  in  with  Ben  Milam,  the  future 
hero  of  Goliad  and  San  Antonio,  of  whom  he  inquired  the 


In  the;  Bosom  of  the;  Comanches 


93 


probabilities  of  finding  something  to  eat.  Milam  told  him 
that  he  himself  was  the  guest  of  the  family  living  on  the 
other  bank,  and  that  accommodations  could  no  doubt  be 
had  there.  They  accordingly  crossed  the  river  together, 
and,  entering  the  only  house  on  the  southern  bank,  were 
welcomed  by  Milam’s  hostess,  Aunt  Ibbie  Gordon  of  our 
narrative.  In  relating  the  sequel  of  this  meeting,  she  says 
that  with  her  own  hands  she  cooked  the  first  food  that  Sam 
Houston  ever  ate  in  Texas,  and  that  her  house  was  the  first 
in  Texas  to  shelter  the  future  president  of  the  great  repub¬ 
lic.  Our  distinguished  guest  tarried  but  a  day,  and  resumed 
his  southward  trail  to  Nacogdoches,  in  those  days  the  Mecca 


GRANDMA  IBBIE  GORDON,  Grandmother  of  Mr?.  Dot  Babb 


94 


In  the  Bosom  of  the  Comanches 


of  all  western  enterprise.  His  visit,  though  brief,  was  long 
enough  to  make  an  impression  on  his  admiring  hostess,  who 
described  him  as  handsome,  courteous,  intelligent,  and  most 
fascinating  in  manner  and  conversation.  Two  years  after 
this  episode  Mrs.  Clark  removed  with  her  husband  to  their 
new  home,  in  what  is  now  Red  River  County,  and  on  the 
site  where  is  situated  the  present  flourishing  town  of  Clarks¬ 
ville.  They  then  laid  its  foundation,  and  began  to  erect  that 
which  culminated  in  its  present  importance.  It  was  in  1835, 
the  year  following  their  removal,  that  Mrs.  Clark  met 
another  of  the  heroes  that  was  famous  in  Texas  history.  This 
was  David  Crockett,  who  gave  up  his  life  in  the  bloody  siege 
of  the  Alamo.  He  was  following  the  usual  trail  on  his  way 
to  the  headquarters  of  the  Texan  army.  She  heard  of  his 
approach  and  resolved  on  giving  him  the  welcome  she  had 
extended  to  the  many  patriots  who  had  passed  that  way 
before  him,  but  having  removed  to  Clarksville,  somewhat  off 
the  main  line  of  travel,  she  knew  she  could  not  see  him 
unless  she  intercepted  him  in  the  course  of  his  route.  This 
she  determined  to  do,  and  after  a  horseback  ride  of  a  few 
miles  brought  up  at  the  home  of  a  settler,  where  she  found 
the  object  of  her  eager  pursuit.  A  few  words  served  to 
introduce  those  earnest  advocates  of  a  common  cause,  and 
a  mutual  hatred  of  oppression  soon  gave  to  each  a  knowl¬ 
edge  of  the  glowing  patriotism  that  burned  in  the  bosom 
of  the  other.  After  a  few  hours  of  mutual  solace  and 
encouragement  they  parted,  he  for  the  fields  of  exploits,  and 
she  for  the  home  where  dwelt  the  brightest  spirit  of  Texas 
independence.  This  home  was  saddened  not  many  months 
afterwards  by  the  fate  that  befell  the  brave  Crockett,  and 
only  three  years  later  it  was  made  desolate  by  the  death  of 
Captain  Clark.  In  the  year  following  this  second  bereave¬ 
ment  Mrs.  Clark  was  married  to  Dr.  George  Gordon,  who 
died  in  1872,  after  a  happy  married  life  of  thirty-three  years, 


In  the  Bosom  of  the  Comanches 


95 


MAXINE  BABB,  Granddaughter  of  Dot  Babb 


96 


In  thf  Bosom  of  thf  Comanchks 


during  which  he  and  his  wife  lived  in  her  old  Clarksville 
domicile.  There  in  the  house  she  entered  sixty  years  before, 
Aunt  Ibbie  Gordon  lived  to  reach  the  patriarchal  age  of 
ninety,  not  seared  but  only  mellowed  by  time,  bright  in 
mind,  cheerful  in  spirits,  and,  prior  to  her  last  illness  in 
1895,  sound  in  body  and  rejoicing  in  the  reverence  and  af¬ 
fection  of  all  who  lived  around  her.  Her  life  had  moreover 
been  blessed  by  several  sons,  whose  honorable  lives  reflected 
the  virtues  of  their  venerable  mother,  and  brought  to  her 
declining  years  the  peace  that  only  a  mother’s  heart  can 
feel. 

My  wife’s  mother,  Mrs.  Graham,  died  some  five  years 
ago  at  the  home  of  her  sons,  W.  H.  and  G.  G.  Graham,  in 
Artesia,  New  Mexico.  Mrs.  Babb  and  I  lived  in  Wise 
County  on  Dry  creek  until  the  summer  of  1879,  when  we 
moved  to  Wichita  Falls,  Texas.  On  our  arrival  there  we 
found  only  three  families  making  their  home  at  that  point. 
These  families  were  those  of  Judge  Barwise,  Judge  Sealy, 
and  Mort  Wattenburger.  In  the  Fall  of  1879  Mr.  J.  H. 
Harris  settled  with  his  family  in  Wichita  Falls.  At  that  time 
the  total  number  of  families  living  in  Wichita  County  per¬ 
haps  did  not  exceed  fifteen.  Our  union  was  blessed  with 
six  children,  three  of  whom  being  born  in  Wise  County  and 
three  in  Wichita  Falls.  We  had  the  misfortune  to  lose  four 
children,  all  of  them  being  buried  at  Wichita  Falls.  Only 
two  of  our  children  survived,  Tom  and  Annie,  both  of  whom 
are  now  grown,  married,  and  making  substantial  headway  in 
life.  I  engaged  to  D.  Waggoner  &  Son  for  work  on  their 
ranches,  and  could  only  be  at  home  sometimes  once  a  week 
and  other  times  once  a  month,  as  my  duties  kept  me  out  on 
the  ranges,  looking  after  the  cattle,  and  far  removed  from 
home.  This  worked  an  especial  hardship  on  my  wife,  who 
had  to  live  alone  during  my  prolonged  absence. 

By  this  time  there  were  ranches  established  here  and 


Quanah  Parker’s  Stage  Coach 


98 


In  the:  Bosom  oe*  the:  Comanche:s 


there  all  over  the  country,  and  dividing  lines  between  the 
different  ranches  were  agreed  upon  and  respected  by  mutual 
understanding.  It  was  necessary  that  cowboys  travel  these 
dividing  lines  daily  to  keep  .the  cattle  thrown  back  to  their 
respective  zones  and  prevent,  as  far  as  possible,  the  indis¬ 
criminate  mixing  thereof.  However,  despite  all  such  pre¬ 
cautions  the  cattle  would  cross  these'  lines  at  night,  and 
especially  in  winter  when  they  would  drift  before  driving 
storms.  With  the  coming  of  Spring,  the  cattle  by  the  thou¬ 
sands  would  be  found  many  miles  from  the  ranches  on  which 
they  belonged.  It  therefore  required  many  men  and  big 
work  to  get  the  cattle  back  to  their  allotted  ranges.  It 
must  be  borne  in  mind  that  in  those  days  there  were  no  barb¬ 
wire  fences,  and  it  was  owing  to  this  fact  that  each  big  ranch 
had  to  have  a  small  army  of  cowboys  looking  after  their 
employer’s  interest.  It  was  the  custom,  and  a  necessary  one 
in  those  days,  to  have,  during  the  Spring  and  early  Summer, 
what  was  known  as  the  annual  “round-up,”  and  on  the 
occasion  of  these  round-ups  it  was  not  unusual  to  see 
twenty-five  to  thirty  chuck  wagons,  with  from  thirty  to 
sixty  men  to  the  wagon.  Seeing  these  large  forces  concen¬ 
trated  preparatory  to  entering  upon  the  several  months  of 
round-up  work  reminded  one  of  the  vanguard  of  an  invading 
army,  and  this  impression  was  largely  accentuated  by  the 
supply  of  arms  and  ammunition  carried  by  the  cowboy 
fraternity  in  those  days  and  times.  The  arms  consisted  of 
such  miscellaneous  armament  as  large  revolvers  and  Win¬ 
chester  rifles  of  all  styles  and  calibres.  The  revolvers  were 
worn  strapped  around  the  waist  and  the  Winchesters  were 
carried  in  holsters  pendant  from  the  saddles.  In  this  way 
they  were  always  prepared  for  battle,  and  whenever  there 
was  combat  there  was  fatal  results  to  one  or  both  of  the 
combatants.  The  round-up  work  would  go  from  one  ranch 
to  another  until  the  whole  country  had  been  worked  over 


In  the  Bosom  of  the  Comanches 


99 


QUANAH  PARKER,  Chief  of  the  Comanches. 


Quanah  Parker,  a  once  powerful  Comanche  chief,  and  the  son 
of  the  white  woman,  Cynthia  Parker,  who  was  captured  when  a 
girl  by  the  Indians  and  taken  as  a  wife  of  the  distinguished  Chief 
Peta  Nocona,  and  subsequently  recovered  by  General  Sul  Ross  at 
the  end  of  a  battle  in  which  General  Ross  slew  Chief  Nocona  and 
most  of  his  followers. 


Cache,  Okla.,  Feb.  10,  1910. 

This  is  to  certify  that  I  know  Nadinewmipe  or  Dot  Babb.  He 
was  captured  by  the  Comanche  Indians  a  long  time  ago  when  he 
wah  a  boy  about  13  or  14  years  old.  He  was  with  the  Indians  about 
two  years. 

QUANAH  PARKER, 

Chief  of  the  Comanche  Tribe. 


100 


In  the:  Bosom  ot  the;  Comanchi;s 


thoroughly,  after  which  all  would  meet  at  the  starting  point. 
Before  entering  upon  the  work  the  first  step  would  be  to 
elect  a  general  round-up  boss,  who  had  supreme  command 
of  all  divisions  and  sub-divisions  of  the  army  of  cowboys 
engaged  in  rounding  up  the  cattle  from  the  ranges  far  and 
near.  After  all  the  cattle  had  been  brought  together  each 
ranch  owner,  or  ranch  boss,  had  charge  of  his  given  bunch 
until  the  cattle  were  all  concentrated  in  one  general  herd. 
The  general  boss  would  then  take  charge  and  let  each  outfit 
take  its  turn  cutting  out  the  cattle  belonging  to  it  as  desig¬ 
nated  by  marks  and  brands.  The  cattle  would  then  be 
held  night  and  day  in  the  separate  herds  until  ownership 
had  been  established,  even  to  the  last  hoof.  I  have  been 
engaged  on  these  general  round-ups  for  six  weeks  to  two 
months  at  a  time,  and  have  gathered  cattle  from  the  Colo¬ 
rado  river  to  the  North  Canadian,  north  and  south,  and 
from  Childress  County,  Texas,  half  way  across  the  Chicka¬ 
saw  Nation  east  and  west. 

We  continued  our  residence  in  Wichita  Falls  from  1879 
until  1898,  with  the  exception  of  one  year  spent  on  Nine- 
Mile  creek,  ten  miles  from  Fort  Sill  (now  in  the  State  of 
Oklahoma).  The  Indians  with  whom  I  lived  during  cap¬ 
tivity  at  length  identified  me  at  Wichita  Falls,  and  from  that 
time  they  urged  me  to  remove  to  the  Indian  Territory.  They 
contended  that  I  was  by  captivity  and  adoption  a  Comanche 
Indian,  and  had  as  much  right  in  the  Territory  as  the  rest 
of  the  tribe.  At  this  time  Captain  Lee  Hall  of  Texas  was 
Indian  agent  at  Anadarko,  Indian  Territory.  Acting  on 
the  suggestion  of  my  Indian  friends,  I  went  over  to  Anadarko 
and  called  on  Captain  Hall  and  said  to  him  that  he  should 
issue  me  a  permit  to  make  my  home  with  them.  Captain 
Hall  inquired  into  the  history  of  my  case,  and  found  that 
the  Indians  claimed  tribal  kinship  with  me  and  were  not 
only  willing  but  extremely  desirous  of  having  me  settle  with 


my  family  in  their  midst.  After  explaining  to  Captain  Hall 
my  captivity  and  residence  with  them  as  a  boy  and  their 
adoption  of  me  into  their  tribe.  Captain  Hall  gave  his  con¬ 
sent;  whereupon  I  moved  my  family  from  Wichita  Falls, 
Texas,  to  the  Indian  country,  and  everything  moved  along 
smoothly  until  Captain  Hall’s  removal  as  Indian  agent. 
Following  Captain  Hall’s  retiremnt  from  his  position  as 


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In  the;  Bosom  of  the;  Comanchfs  101 


102 


In  the;  Bosom  oe*  the:  Comanchks 


Indian  agent,  a  special  agent  by  the  name  of  White  was 
sent  to  investigate  my  right  to  settle  and  live  with  the  In¬ 
dians.  Upon  his  submitting  his  report  to  the  Indian  agent, 
which  report  was  unfavorable  to  me,  a  squad  of  Indian 
police  were  sent  to  me  with  orders  to  move  out  of  the  Indian 
Territory;  but  the  Indian  police  advised  me  to  disregard 
the  order  and  remain,  advising  me  that  in  doing  so  I  would 
have  their  support  and  protection.  The  great  old  Indian 
chief,  Quanah  Parker,  Esetye,  Wild  Horse,  and  several 
other  sub-chiefs  importuned  me  to  remain,  saying  they  would 
not  suffer  me  and  my  family  to  be  put  out.  I  had  about 
decided  to  continue  my  residence  with  the  Indians;  but 
my  wife  pointed  out  that  we  might  be  annoyed  and  that, 
at  all  events,  we  should  return  to  civilization,  where  we 
would  have  necessary  school  advantages  for  our  children. 
With  her  persuasion  along  this  line  I  consented,  and  we 
abandoned  a  good  home  we  had  erected  and  returned  to 
Texas;. 

We  returned  to  our  home  in  Wichita  County,  Texas,  and 
lived  there  from  1879  until  1898,  when  we  moved  to  Clar¬ 
endon,  Donley  County.  We  resided  in  Clarendon  until  1906, 
when  we  moved  to  Amarillo,  Potter  County,  Texas,  where 
we  now  reside.  Knowing  the  Panhandle  as  I  do,  I  am 
firmly  convinced  that  Amarillo  is  the  future  metropolis  of 
the  great  Panhandle  country,  and  destined  to  become  one 
of  the  large  cities  of  Texas. 

A  great  deal  has  been  written  from  time  to  time  as  to 
the  inner  life,  domestic  traits,  habits  and  temperament  of 
the  Indians,  concerning  which  there  has  been  no  little  exag¬ 
geration.  My  residence  and  intimate  relations  with  the 
Comanche  Indians,  during  which  time  I  observed  very 
closely,  peculiarly  qualify  me  to  speak  correctly  and  truth¬ 
fully  on  such  subjects.  In  their  relations  with  one  another 
they  were  considerate  and  tolerant,  and  did  not  fall  out, 


In  the;  Bosom  oe1  the;  Comanche;s 


103 


Quanah  Parker’s  Home. 


104  In  the  Bosom  oe  the  Comanches 

*  / 

fight,  and  kill  each  other  as  do  the  white  men.  The  only 
real  fighting  I  ever  saw  among  them  was  confined  to  squaws. 
Occasionally  a  squaw  would  do  something  to  excite  the 
anger  of  the  others,  when  they  would  combine  and  give  the 
offending  squaw  a  terrible  beating.  Usually  this  had  a 
very  salutary  effect,  and  the  victim  of  the  flogging  would 
rarely,  if  ever,  repeat  the  offense.  Neither  the  Indian  men 
nor  squaws  would  whip  or  bodily  punish  their  children.  It 
was  a  recognized  tribal  custom  for  the  men  to  have  two, 
and  from  that  to  as  many  wives  as  they  desired.  There 
were  no  marriage  ceremonies,  and  when  a  girl  reached  the 
age  of  fourteen  to  sixteen  she  was  given  away  by  the  father 
and  mother,  unless  in  exceptional  cases  only,  an  admirer 
would  steal  the  girl,  somewhat  after  the  custom  so  prevalent 
with  white  men.  Generally  the  men  would  be  loyal  to  their 
wives,  and  their  wives  to  them;  but  now  and  then,  just 
as  is  the  case  in  civilized  communities,  a  man  would  find  an 
“affiinity”  in  another  man’s  squaw  and  take  her  away  from 
him.  The  penalty  in  such  cases  was  the  recognized  right 
of  the  man  losing  the  squaw  to  take  all  the  horses  and 
property  of  the  Indian  stealing  the  wife,  until  the  victim  felt 
that  he  had  been  fully  satisfied.  Under  no  circumstances 
did  they  resort  to  fighting  and  killing  over  the  loss  of  a 
squaw,  which  was  always  adjusted  on  a  strict  monetary  or 
property  basis.  Another  striking  trait  was  that  of  the  in¬ 
terest  the  several  squaws  belonging  to  one  man  took  in  each 
other’s  children,  and  in  fact  such  children  were  as  affection¬ 
ately  cared  for  as  if  the  offspring  of  that  particular  squaw. 
In  the  main  the  squaws  lived  together  in  harmony.  After 
reaching  a  certain  age,  the  men  would  abandon  the  old 
squaws,  and  supply  their  places  with  younger  women;  and 
in  this  way  the  older  and  discarded  squaws  had  the  right 
and  liberty  to  become  any  other  man’s  wife  that  would 
elect  to  accept  or  adopt  her,  and  the  new  alliance  could  be 
formed  without  the  consent  of  the  former  husband. 


In  the  Bosom  of  the  Comanches 


105 


QUANAH  PARKER  in  Costume 


106 


In  the;  Bosom  op  the:  Comanchds 


All  the  Indian  subjects  showed  great  respect  and  obedi¬ 
ence  to  their  chiefs  and  head  men.  During  the  summer  the 
different  chiefs  would  assemble  the  tribal  members  in  their 
jurisdictions,  and  separate  camps  would  be  constructed  and 
maintained  accordingly.  Such  camps  were  usually  pitched 
on  the  bank  of  some  running  stream  for  the  convenience 
of  both  grass  and  water.  It  was  also  a  custom  to  move 
these  camps  every  eight  or  ten  days,  so  as  always  to  have 
plenty  of  grass  near-by  for  their  numerous  horses.  The 
Indians  were  gregarious  and  would  live  in  towns,  with  their 
tepees  arranged  with  the  same  precision  as  the  streets  of 
a  city.  They  would  set  the  tepees  with  the  doors  facing 
to  the  east.  If  it  were  cloudy  when  they  put  them  up, 
resulting  in  some  deviation  from  the  right  direction,  this 
fact  they  would  discover  as  soon  as  it  cleared  up.  With 
the  sun  as  a  compass,  they  would  then  rearrange  all  the 
tepees.  The  day  before  they  would  break  up  and  decamp 
for  a  new  location,  the  chief  would  get  on  a  horse  and  ride 
up  and  down  the  streets  shouting  at  the  top  of  his  voice  a 
description  of  the  location  to  which  all  should  move  the 
next  day.  Sometimes  they  would  cover  twenty  or  thirty 
miles  in  one  day,  and  on  the  day  of  break-up  for  the  move 
everyone  got  in  a  great  hurry,  and  more  especially  the 
squaws,  who  had  to  gather  up  all  the  belongings  and  attach 
them  to  the  pack  horses  and  mules.  They  would  tie  the 
tepee  poles  on  each  side  of  a  horse  or  mule  by  one  end  and 
let  the  other  end  drag.  These  poles  were  from  twelve  to 
twenty  feet  long,  and  on  such  they  would  pile  their  impedi¬ 
menta,  until  one  could  scarcely  see  the  back  of  the  horse 
or  mule  bearing  the  burden.  The  children  that  were  too 
large  to  be  carried  on  their  mother’s  backs  and  not  large 
enough  to  ride  alone  were  tied  on  some  old  horse  which 
moved  with  the  procession.  As  an  improvised  ambulance 
for  the  sick  or  wounded  they  would  tie  a  buffalo  skin  from 


In  the  Bosom  oe  the  Comanches 


107 


one  pole  to  another  and  fasten  one  end  of  the  poles  to  the 
pack  saddles,  the  other  ends  dragging  on  the  ground.  While 
such  locomotion  seemed  rough,  it  always  answered  the  pur¬ 
pose.  It  frequently  happened  in  moving  that  some  of  the 
pack  mules  or  horses  would  become  frightened  or  stam¬ 
peded,  and  in  their  flight  scatter  the  sundry  packages  and 
household  plunder  for  miles  in  every  direction,  requiring 
several  days  to  collect  up  the  fragments  and  reassemble  the 
animals  and  their  belongings.  In  moving  from  one  district 
to  another  the  men  and  boys  would  divide  their  time  between 
chasing  deer,  antelope,  and  buffalo,  and  driving  the  horses. 
They  would  begin  moving  operations  just  as  early  in  the 
morning  as  they  could;  and  as  to  who  should  get  started 
first  in  the  moving  there  was  a  great  rivalry,  since  the  first 
to  reach  the  new  camp  ground  had  choice  of  location. 

As  before  stated,  the  tepees  were  arranged  in  the  order 
of  streets.  One  of  the  reasons  for  this  was  that  of  enabling 
the  warriors  to  parade  first  one  street  and  then  the  other  in 
their  efforts  to  arouse  and  incite  the  Indians  when  a  raid 
had  been  planned  and  recruits  were  wanted.  Notably  was 
this  the  case  preparatory  to  getting  together  a  company  of 
warriors  for  an  incursion  into  Texas  and  New  Mexico.  The 
warlike  and  restless  spirit  of  the  Indians  was  dominant,  and 
they  could  not  be  quiescent  for  any  long  period.  When 
seized  with  the  mania  for  a  raid,  the  leading  men  would 
make  medicine  to  determine  when  and  where  the  raid  should 
take  place.  After  this  point  had  been  settled  they  would 
cover  their  faces  with  hideous  war  paint,  and  array  them¬ 
selves  in  their  most  frightful  bonnets  of  feathers,  spears, 
bows,  and  arrows,  and  in  this  shape,  led  by  a  man  beating 
a  drum,  they  would  parade  all  the  different  streets.  As  the 
procession  moved  along  volunteers  would  join  as  the  spirit 
moved  them.  These  parades  in  this  fashion  would  continue 
each  day  with  increasing  frenzy  of  war  hoops  and  hideous- 


108 


In  the  Bosom  of  the  Comanches 


ness  of  paraphernalia  for  from  twenty  to  thirty  days,  such 
performances  ending  only  after  the  requisite  number  of 
warriors  had  volunteered  and  enlisted  for  the  raid  in  con¬ 
templation.  Unlike  civilized  governments,  they  had  no  com¬ 
pulsory  military  service,  and  their  fighting  squads  were 
recruited  wholly  from  volunteers.  I  have  seen  and  been 
with  them  when  after  a  streneous  three  weeks  recruiting 
campaign  they  would  be  ready  to  start  out  with  two  hun¬ 
dred  to  three  hundred  warriors.  When  an  Indian  warrior 
was  killed  or  slain  in  battle,  the  other  warriors  and  squaws 
that  were  related  to  the  slain  made  what  they  thought  to 
be  expiation,  by  inflicting  such  punishment  upon  them¬ 
selves  as  abstaining  from  food  and  drink  for  a  good  length 
of  time  and  cutting  themselves  severely  with  knives  and 
doing  other  severe  bodily  injury  to  themselves.  [TEe  sur¬ 
viving  warrior  comrades  would  shave  the  hair  from  the 
right  side  of  their  heads,  and  the  squaws  of  the  deceased 
warrior’s  family  would  sometimes  cut  off  all  the  hair.  I 
have  seen  the  squaws  take  butcher  knives  and  carve  their 
arms  and  legs  and  also  their  bodies  in  a  most  frightful  man¬ 
ner,  and  when  the  wounds  would  be  partially  healed  they 
would  reopen  them  so  as  to  prolong  and  intensify  their 
bodily  suffering.  In  entering  upon  these  bloody  orgies 
they  would  take  a  butcher  knife  in  one  hand  and  a  whet 
rock  in  the  other,  and  after  carving  a  while  would  sharpen 


Waneda  Parker,  the  daughter  of  Quanah  Parker,  the  late  Chief 
of  the  Comanche  Indians,  is  a  young  woman  of  striking  appearance 
and  of  much  cultivation.  Her  mother  is  a  full  blood  Comanche, 
while  her  paternal  grandmother  was  the  famous  Cynthia  Ann  Parker, 
a  white  woman  who  was  taken  into  captivity  in  girlhood,  latterly 
to  become  the  consort  of  the  famous  Comanche  chief,  Peta  Nocona, 
slain  in  a  hand  to  hand  combat  by  that  immortal  hero,  General 
Sul  Ross.  One  of  Waneda  Parker’s  elder  sisters  was  married  to  a 
Mr.  Emmett  Cox,  a  white  man,  and  from  this  union  there  was  a 
daughter  who  was  educated  in  the  best  seminaries  and  is  now  an 
accomplished  school  teacher  in  the  Phillippne  Islands. 


In  the:  Bosom  of  thf  Comanches 


109 


WANEDA  PARKER 

Daughter  of  Quanah  Parker,  late  Chief  of  the  Comanche  Indians 


110 


In  the*  Bosom  of  the  Comanches 


the  blade  and  carve  some  more.  Occasionally  this  mutila¬ 
tion  was  carried  to  a  fatal  extent.  I  had  a  very  exciting 
experience  and  also  narrow  escape  during  the  enactment  of 
one  of  these  performances.  I  had  just  been  added  to  the 
headquarters  camp  after  my  captivity  on  the  Arkansas  river 
when  certain  warriors  had  returned  from  a  raid  in  which 
a  number  of  their  comrades  had  been  killed,  and  the  mother 
of  one  of  the  slain  was  so  crazed  with  grief  as  to  be  bereft 
of  her  reason.  I  had  been  sent  with  some  Indian  girls  to 
a  running  brook  near  by  to  bring  water  to  the  camp,  and  I 
heard  horrifying  shrieks  and  moans.  On  looking  around 
I  beheld  this  Indian  squaw  approaching  with  a  large  butcher 
knife  and  a  whet  rock,  and  the  next  thing  I  knew  the  in¬ 
furiated  woman  made  a  fierce  attack  with  murderous  intent 
upon  me.  Being  unwilling  to  offer  myself  as  a  voluntary 
sacrifice,  I  fled  with  great  celerity,  and  seeing  that  she 
could  not  overtake  me  she  halted  and  carved  herself  to  pieces. 
It  matters  not  how  long  I  shall  live,  this  harrowing  picture 
will  remain  ever  fresh  in  my  memory,  and  during  the 
intervening  years,  not  frequently  in  my  dreams  has  the 
apparition  of  this  frenzied  and  demoniacal  squaw  appeared 
unto  me. 

Many  years  after  these  troublous  time  I  had  occasion 
to  visit  Fort  Sill,  the  headquarters  of  the  Indians,  and  what 
was  then  known  as  the  Comanche  and  Kiowa  reservation; 
and  there  I  renewed  my  acquaintanceship  with  many  of  the 
old  time  warriors  and  with  them  reviewed  the  thrilling 
scenes  of  the  Indian  raids  and  exploits  of  the  years  agone. 


Cattle  Ranch  located  near  Alanreed,  Texas,  owned  and  operated 
at  present  time  by  Dot  Babb,  who  is  surrounded  by  a  few  of  his 
Red  Poll  cattle,  while  his  favorite  horse  grazes  in  the  background. 
A  never  failing  creek  runs  near  by  with  numerous  springs  afford  ng 
abundant  stock  water,  fine  fishing,  and  duck  shooting.  Th:s  splendid 
ranch  consists  of  several  sections  rich  grazing  and  agricultural  lands. 
Stock  raising  and  stock  farming  are  the  leading  features  of  this 
picturesque  and  generally  most  excellent  ranch. 


In  the;  Bosom  of  the:  Comanches 


111 


Scene  on  Cattle  Ranch  owned  by  Dot  Babb  at  present  time. 


112 


In  the  Bosom  op*  the  Comanches 


Certain  prominent  Indians  were  missed  from  the  ranks,  and 
concerning  them  I  made  inquiries  with  much  interest  and 
solicitude.  Notable  among  them  were  Pernurmey  and  his 
brother  Tutchispooder.  Pernurmey  was  the  leader  in  the 
raid  in  which  I  was  captured,  and  he  claimed  me  as  his  son. 
In  captivity  he  frequently  stated  to  me  that  he  would  die 
before  he  would  let  the  white  people  take  their  country 
away  from  them.  In  answer  to  my  inquiry  as  to  what  he 
considered  his  country  he  designated  the  country  from 
Fort  Worth  east  to  Red  river  and  west  to  the  Colorado 
river,  and  from  this  line  north  to  the  Arkansas  river.  At 
Fort  Sill  I  learned  that  Pernurmey  had  made  good  his  re¬ 
solve  to  die  in  defense  of  what  he  considered  his  country, 
and  was  killed  in  Lost  Valley,  Texas.  I  was  told  by  the 
surviving  Indians  at  Fort  Sill  that  five  Indian  warriors 
and  one  squaw  headed  by  Pernurmey  left  the  reservation 
at  Fort  Sill,  saying  they  were  going  to  Texas  to  get  some 
more  scalps  of  the  white  men,  before  laying  aside  the  toma¬ 
hawk  forever.  This  was  in  1873,  and  on  the  raid  Ira  Long, 
of  Wise  County,  Texas,  with  a  small  company  of  rangers 
overtook  them,  killing  four  and  wounding  two.  As  the 
wounded  were  never  heard  of  again  they  must  have  perished 
from  their  wounds.  The  Indians  would  relate  to  me  their 
experiences  in  the  various  fights  and  raids  that  they  had 
made  into  Texas  for  many  years  preceding.  They  referred 
to  the  time  when  the  white  men  had  no  guns  except  the 
old  muzzle-loading  patterns,  and  in  the  attacks  they  made 
on  the  white  men  they  would  wait  until  the  white  men 
would  shoot  and  then  dash  at  them  while  they  were  re¬ 
loading  these  guns.  They  described  these  white  men  as 
having  very  long  whiskers  and  being  exceedingly  brave 
and  expert  marksmen.  They  further  said  the  white  men 
did  not  seem  to  fear  the  charges  made  by  the  Indians  and 
paid  no  attention  to  what  was  going  on  until  their  guns 


In  the;  Bosom  os'  the;  Comancheis 


113 


were  reloaded,  at  which  juncture  the  Indians  would  have  to 
get  out  of  the  way  as  quickly  as  possible,  as  by  experience 
they  could  well  anticipate  what  the  results  would  be. 

/  Too  much  praise  cannot  be  given  the  organized  forces 
of  rangers  and  minute  men  maintained  by  the  several  fron¬ 
tier  counties  for  the  effective  defense  and  protection  afford¬ 
ed  the  widely  scattered  citizens  and  settlements  in  the  try¬ 
ing  Indians  days.  It  can  also  be  said  that  great  credit  is 
due  the  hardy,  courageous  cowboys  that  worked  in  conjunc¬ 
tion  with  the  rangers  in  repelling  the  Indians  from  time  to 
time  and  pursuing  and  driving  them  out  of  the  limits  of  the 
settlements.  These  forces  did  much  more  to  safeguard  the 
lives  and  property  of  the  citizens  of  the  frontier  than  all  of 
the  United  States  soldiers  combined.  The  custom  of  the  In¬ 
dians  oftentimes  was  to  divide  into  small  groups  of  raiding 
parties,  and  in  this  manner  they  would  elude  the  United 
States  troops,  who  were  better  adapted  to  attacking  the  In¬ 
dians  in  larger  bodies.  A  small  band  of  Indians  would  engage 
in  a  raid,  and  owing  to  the  red  tape  enveloping  the  army  posts 
would  cover  a  large  scope  and  destroy  great  life  and  much 
property  and  get  away  before  the  troops  could  get  into 
action.  As  the  rangers  and  cowboys  were  always  well 
mounted  and  armed,  and  could  get  on  the  trail  and  in  pur¬ 
suit  of  the  marauding  bands  of  Indians  almost  immediately 
after  they  entered  the  boundaries  of  the  settlements,  the 
Indians  knew  and  feared  these  forces.  There  could  be  no 
better  illustration  of  how  the  Indians  regarded  the  relative 
effectiveness  of  the  cowboys  and  the  United  States  troops 
than  a  dialogue  that  took  place  between  an  Indian  and  the 
commandant  of  a  certain  army  post.  The  Indians  accosted 
the  officer  and  asked  him  if  he  would  trade  him  one  of  the 
mounted  cannon  at  the  post,  whereupon  the  officer  answered 
that  he  would  not,  saying,  “If  I  trade  a  cannon  to  you,  you 
will  use  it  in  killing  my  soldiers.”  The  answer  of  the  Indian 


114 


In  the;  Bosom  of  the:  Comanches 


was  that  such  would  not  be  the  case,  as  he  wanted  the  can¬ 
non  to  shoot  cowboys  with,  and  would  kill  the  soldiers  with 
clubs. 

In  the  interest  of  history  it  can  be  recorded  that  the 
rangers  and  cowboys  are  undeniably  entitled  to  the  glory 
and  credit  of  eventually  driving  and  keeping  out  the  Indians 
from  the  Texas  frontiers,  and  not  the  United  States  troops. 
I  wish  to  make  especial  mention  in  this  connection  of 
George  Stephens,  an  ex-sheriff  of  Wise  County,  who  was 
captain  of  a  small  company  of  rangers,  as  it  is  a  noted 
fact  that  he  and  his  men  alone  killed  more  Indians  and 
repelled  more  Indian  attacks  and  afforded  more  protection 
to  the  frontier  citizens  of  the  western  tier  of  counties  than 
was  ever  accomplished  by  the  soldiers.  It  was  the  custom 
of  Captain  Stephens  and  his  men  to  attack  and  pursue  the 
Indians  regardless  of  any  disparity  in  numbers  and  strength. 
An  instance  was  the  attack  made  by  Captain  Stephens 
on  the  Indians  in  Lost  Valley,  Jack  County,  Texas.  In  this 
attack  Captain  Stephens  had  but  a  very  few  men  with 
which  to  engage  several  hundred  Indians  that  were  making 
a  raid  through  Jack  and  adjacent  counties,  during  which 
the  Indians  massacred  not  a  few  people,  among  whom  I 
recall  Bill  Glass  and  a  young  man  by  the  name  of  Bailey. 
A  strange  coincidence  in  connection  with  the  killing  of  the 


Indiahoma,  Okla., 

March  22,  1910. 

I  will  now  drop  you  few  lines  th;s  morning.  I  received  your 
letter  few  days  ago.  I  was  very  glad  to  hear  from  you.  Now, 
my  friend,  I  haven’t  got  them  pictures,  became  I  was  vevy  busy. 
But  I  am  going  sent  them  to  you  as  soon  as  I  get  them  fixed.  Now 
if  you  can  get  that  Biscuits  when  you  get  it  and  sent  me  just  few 
of  them.  Well,  how  are  you  getting  along.  I  hope  you  are  well. 
How'  is  people  at  Texas  anyhow.  We  are  all  getting  along  very 
nicely.  My  friend,  I  guess  it  must  be  all  for  you  this  time.  I  must 
close  it  now. 

I  am,  vour  dearest  friend, 

PARKERHEIMER. 


In  the  Bosom  oe  the  Comanches 


115 


Parkerheimer,  Squaw  and  Son 


116 


In  the;  Bosom  of  the;  Comanghes 


young  man  was  that  his  father  had  been  slain  by  the  Indians 
on  a  similar  raid  when  the  younger  Bailey  was  only  a  child. 
Notwithstanding  the  large  number  of  Indians  in  this  mem¬ 
orable  Lost  Valley  raid,  Captain  Stephens  and  his  small 
band  of  intrepid  forces  succeeded  in  routing  them  and 
putting  them  to  flight  in  such  a  manner  as  to  save  the 
lives  of  many  people  and  much  property.  A  short  time 
after  this  particular  raid  another  band  of  Indians,  consist¬ 
ing  of  several  hundred  warriors,  intent  upon  murder  and 
plunder,  entered  Texas.  Once  more  Captain  Stephens  and 
his  company  undertook  to  drive  them  out  of  the  settle¬ 
ments  and  did  so.  So  hurridly  did  he  pursue  them  that 
he  overtook  them  on  the  Little  Wichita  river  in  Clay  County, 
Texas,  some  ten  miles  southwest  of  the  present  city  of 
Henrietta,  and  in  this  pursuit  Stephens  had  not  exceeding 
ten  men.  When  the  engagement  opened  up  he  discovered 
that  he  had  encountered  three  hundred  Indians  and  a  band 
numerically  so  strong  that  he  could  not  hope  to  cope  with 
them.  The  battle  opened  and  had  raged  furiously  for  some 
time  when  Captain  Stephens,  seeing  that  they  could  not  hold 
out  in  their  resistance  much  longer,  had  his  men  dismount 
and  seek  shelter  in  the  timber  and  canyons,  abandoning 
their  horses  altogether.  In  this  way  they  kept  up  a  desul¬ 
tory  fight  under  cover  and  during  the  night  effected  their 
escape.  (  They  set  out  for  Decatur,  Wise  County,  which 
was  distant  about  eighty  miles,  which  distance  they  covered 
on  foot  without  either  rest  or  food.  This  was  accomplished 
without  loss  of  a  man  and  after  inflicting  sever  punish¬ 
ment  upon  a  large  body  of  Indians.  I  only  recall  the  name 
of  one  of  the  ten  men  with  Captain  Stephens  on  this  occa¬ 
sion,  and  that  was  that  John  Hogg,  a  brother  of  the  late 
distinguished  Governor  J.  S.  Hogg  of  Texas. 

A  great  deal  has  been  said  and  written  about  the  Mus¬ 
tang  horses  so  numerous  in  the  Northwest,  and  especially 


In  the;  Bosom  or*  the;  Comanche;s 


Daughter  of  Chief  Tabernanika,  now  lives  at  Fort  Sill. 


118 


In  the;  Bosom  oe'  the;  Comanche:s 


in1  Texas,  from  the  upper  Cross-Timbers,  and  over  the 
Panhandle  of  Texas,  and  in  what  was  then  known  as  “No 
Man’s  Land”  and  is  now  Beaver  County,  Oklahoma.  As 
a  digression,  I  would  say  that  in  the  early  days  “No  Man’s 
Land”  was  the  place  of  refuge  and  rendezvous  for  many  of 
the  most  vicious  outlaws  and  fugitives  that  ever  inhabited 
this  continent.  These  outlaws  had  “No  Man’s  Land”  prac¬ 
tically  all  to  themselves,  and  it  was  a  very  rare  instance 
that  an  officer  of  the  law  ever  succeeded  in  going  into  and 
taking  out  of  this  district  any  of  the  aforsaid  outlaws.  Fre¬ 
quently  an  officer  would  go  in  and  never  be  heard  of  again. 

Resuming  the  subject  of  the  Mustang  ponies,  I  would 
say  that  as  far  back  as  1866  to  1867,  I  traversed  all  of  the 
country  above  described  in  the  two  years  I  was  with  the 
Comanche  Indians,  and  the  supposed  Mustang  horses  con¬ 
sisted  of  animals  that  had  been  abandoned  by  the  Indians 
and  originally  stolen  from  Texas  and  New  Mexico.  The 
Indians  made  a  practice  of  stealing  and  having  plenty  of 
horses,  and  when  hotly  pursued  by  Texas  rangers,  cowboys, 


Cyril,  Okla.,  Apr.  21,  1910. 

Dear  Bro.  Dot: — I  was  very  glad  to  get  your  letter.  I  want 
to  go  up  there  but  I  do  not  know  when  will  Quanah  Parker  go 
there,  so  if  you  will  let  me  know  when  he  is  going  I  will  go  with 
him.  I  do  not  know  the  way  to  there.  I  will  send  you  a  few 
pictures  that  I  have  here  and  next  time  I  will  send  some  more.  We 
are  all  well  here,  hoping  you  the  same. 

Your  Bro., 

TOM  WATSACODER. 

Name  means  “lost  a  sitting  down.” 

Cyril,  Okla.,  Nov.  3,  1910. 

Dear  Brother: — I  will  write  a  few  lines  to  you  this  morning. 
Well,  we  are  all  still  in  good  health,  we  have  been  in  a  good  con¬ 
dition  since  you  left  here.  Quanah  has  gone  and  we  did  not  know 
that  they  have  to  pay  some  money  to  go  hunt  there  so  I  did  not 
go.  We  did  not  know  the  way  down  there.  I  will  not  write  a 
long  one  this  time,  but  will  do  better  next  time.  I  hope  this  letter 
will  find  you  all  well  there  so  must  close  for  time.  Answer  soon. 
Mr.  Dot  Babb.  From  your  brother, 

TOM  WATSACODER. 


In  the;  Bosom  oe*  the:  Comanche:s 


119 


Tom  Watsacoder,  who  claims  Dot  Babb  as  his  brother,  and  other  Indians  in  regalia. 


120 


In  the;  Bosom  oe*  the;  Comanche;s 


and  United  States  soldiers,  it  would  frequently  happen  they 
would  have  to  abandon  many  of  their  horses,  as  in  their 
hurried  flight  they  could  not  drive  the  horses  fast  enough 
and  would  necessarily  leave  them  behind.  In  this  way  the 
horses  became  scattered  all  over  the  country.  I  recall  one 
instance  when  the  United  States  troops  captured  a  band  of 
Indians  that  had  an  unusually  large  number  of  horses,  and 
the  officers  in  charge  gave  orders  to  kill  most  of  the  horses 
in  the  possession  of  the  captured  Indians.  In  executing 
these  orders  the  troops  rounded  up  and  killed  on  this  par¬ 
ticular  occasion  about  two  thousand  horses. 

During  my  compulsory  sojurn  with  the  Comanche  In¬ 
dians  I  was  not  permitted  to  accompany  them  on  any  of 
the  raids  into  Texas,  but  they  were  glad  to  have  me  as  one 
of  their  warriors  on  raids  into  Mexico,  and  on  such  raids  I 
accompanied  them  twice,  each  raiding  party  consisting  of 
about  seventy-five  men.  In  each  exploit  they  secured  a 
considerable  number  of  horses,  and  on  the  last  raid  we  killed 
seven  Mexicans  and  captured  two  Mexican  girls  and  one 
boy.  These  children  ranged  in  age  from  eight  to  ten  years, 
and  were  still  with  the  Indians  as  captives  when  my  release 
from  them  was  effected.  Space  would  not  permit  me  to 
depict  and  relate  the  circumstances  of  the  many  harrowing 
Indian  massacres  of  which  I  had  knowledge  during  the  dark 
days  of  the  Indian  depredations,  but  I  will  relate  one  in¬ 
stance,  terrible  in  its  cruelty  and  unusually  pathetic  in  many 
respects.  This  particular  instance  was  that  of  the  massacre 
of  the  Russell  family  that  took  place  in  the  year  1868,  some 
four  miles  southwest  of  the  location  now  occupied  by  Chico, 
Texas.  Mrs.  Russell  was  a  widow  that  with  her  four  child¬ 
ren  had  lived  alone  for  several  years.  She  had  three  sons, 
about  twenty-one,  sixteen,  and  ten  years  of  age  respectively, 
and  her  daughter,  Martha,  was  eighteen  years  of  age.  In 
the  attack  from  the  Indians  all  were  killed  including  the 


In  the  Bosom  oe  the  Comanches 


121 


Comanche  Dwelling. 


122 


In  the  Bosom  of  the  Comanches 


mother,  except  Bean  and  Martha.  Bean  was  absent  at  work 
as  an  employe  of  a  United  States  government  sawmill  about 
ten  miles  from  his  home,  which  was  the  old  Joe  Henry 
Martin  place.  The  Indians  destroyed  this  home  on  Satur¬ 
day,  and  on  Sunday  morning  Bean  Russell  returned  to  spend 
the  Sabbath  with  the  family,  as  was  his  usual  custom.  There 
he  was  confronted  by  the  ghastly  sight  of  his  murdered 
mother  and  brothers,  but  he  could  find  no  trace  of  Martha. 
He  at  once  hastened  to  the  nearest  neighbors,  three  or  four 
miles  distant,  and  reported  the  horrible  massacre.  At  this 
time  there  was  not  exceeding  ten  families  in  the  county. 
In  this  raid  there  was  not  less  than  three  hundred  Indians. 
The  mystery  of  all  wah  what  had  become  of  Martha.  With 
many  the  conclusion  was  that  the  beautiful  young  girl  with 
golden  hair  had  been  made  a  captive  by  the  Indians  who 
would  take  her  away  with  them.  However,  this  theory  was 
shaken  on  seeing  and  talking  with  Uncle  Dick  Couch  and 
his  sons,  who  resided  in  the  neighborhood,  and  who  had  just 
successfully  withstood  an  attack  from  the  same  band  of 
Indians  having  in  reality  not  only  resisted  them  but  driven 
them  off  and  given  pursuit.  Uncle  Dick  and  his  sons  con¬ 
tended  that  in  the  encounter  they  saw  the  entire  band,  and 
that  Martha  was  not  with  them,  and  that  they  must  have 
killed  her  after  leaving  the  Russell  home.  Following  this 
there  was  a  general  search  for  Martha,  whose  body  was 
found  by  Uncle  Dick  Couch  on  his  way  home  on  the  day 
we  had  burried  the  other  three  slain  members  of  the  Russell 
family.  He  at  once  reported  such  to  the  neighbors,  who 
proceeded  to  bury  her  remains  with  the  other  members  of 
the  family.  It  was  found  that  these  ruthless  Indians  had 
not  only  killed  but  had  scalped  Martha  and  left  her  entirely 
nude,  and  when  found  the  wolves  had  badly  mutilated  her 
remains.  It  was  supposed  the  Indians  scalped  her  that 
they  might  take  her  very  fine  and  luxuriant  suit  of  golden 


In  the:  Bosom  of  thf  Comanchfs 


123 


hair.  Neighbors  on  inspecting  the  Russell  home  found  that 
the  widowed  mother  and  sons  had  made  a  most  desperate  re¬ 
sistance,  each  dying  with  one  or  more  weapons  in  hand  and 
surrounded  by  large  puddles  of  their  own  blood.  They 
had  fought  with  desperation  and  no  doubt  had  wounded  or 
killed  some  of  the  attacking  Indians;  but  in  case  of  killing 
the  Indians  it  would  not  have  been  known,  as  it  was  their 
invariable  custom  to  carry  off  their  dead.  This  frightful 
tragedy  took  place  within  twenty  miles  of  a  United  States 
army  post,  Fort  Richardson  at  Jacksboro,  Texas,  and  is 
a  further  evidence  of  the  inefficiency  of  the  United  States 
government  in  protecting  its  citizens.  This  is  only  one  of 
a  countless  number  of  similar  massacres  which  will  give 
some  idea  of  the  sufferings,  dangers  and  hardships  of  the 
daring  pioneer  people  who  blazed  the  way  that  civilization, 
security  and  prosperity  might  follow  in  their  wake,  and 
further  serves  to  remind  all  of  the  debt  of  gratitude  to  the 
brave  pioneers  of  Texas  that  can  never  be  paid. 

During  my  early  ranch  days  with  Dan  Waggoner  in  the 
counties  of  Clay  and  Wichita  there  were  immense  herds 
of  buffalo  roaming  the  prairies  in  all  directions,  and  I  was 
accustomed  to  having  some  fine  sport  pursuing,  and  occas¬ 
ionally  killing  the  buffalo  bulls  that  were  wont  to  show 
fight.  Pat  Kemp,  my  companion  to  whom  I  have  already 
frequently  referred,  enjoyed  this  sport  with  me.  I  recall 
a  very  ludicrous  experience  one  day  when  Pat  and  I  were 
chasing  some  large  buffalo  bulls.  During  the  chase  I  had 
killed  three  or  four,  and  in  the-  heat  of  the  pursuit  I  had 
lost  sight  of  Pat.  Going  in  search  of  him  I  saw  Pat’s  rider¬ 
less  horse  coming  in  my  direction.  I  felt  very  much  alarmed 
and  hastened  to  look  over  the  surrounding  country,  when 
to  my  great  surprise  a  few  hundred  yards  distant  I  saw 
Pat  astride  a  bull.  Thinking  that  he  would  need  assistance 
I  put  spurs  to  my  horse  and  hurried  to  him  and  on  over- 


124 


In  the;  Bosom  oe*  the;  Comanchejs 


taking  him  inquired  why  he  was  riding  the  buffalo.  Pat’s 
reply  was  that  “Old  Buckskin,”  the  horse  that  he  had  been 
riding,  “could  not  overtake  the  young  buffalo,”  and  being 
desirous  of  killing  some  buffalo  yearlings  he  had  mounted 
the  buffalo  bull,  believing  that  in  that  way  he  could  get 
to  the  front,  and  that  when  up  with  the  young  buffalo,  he 
could  dismount  and  kill  some  of  the  yearlings  that  were 
leading  the  herd.  But  instead  the  old  buffalo  had  sulked 
and  would  not  run  at  a  fast  pace.  I  then  asked  him  how  he 
expected  to  get  off  the  buffalo,  and  Pat  said,  “You  get  my 
Winchester  when  I  throw  it  down  ,and  I  will  show  you  how 
to  get  off,”  whereupon  he  threw  down  the  Winchseter,  and 
I  got  off  of  my  horse  and  secured  the  gun,  so  that  I  could 
shoot  the  buffalo,  if  necessary.  At  this  juncture  Pat  drew 
his  large  bowie-knife,  with  which  he  stabbed  the  buffalo 
several  times,  the  buffalo  soon  thereafter  falling  dead  in 
his  tracks.  As  the  buffalo  fell  Pat  jumped,  remarking, 
“That  is  the  way  to  get  off  an  old  buffalo  bull.”  This 
memeorable  buffalo  ride  was  on  Gilbert’s  creek  in  Wichita 
•County,  Texas,  in  1873. 

Pat  and  I  had  many  experiences  with  and  many  narrow 
escapes  from  the  wild  animals  with  which  we  came  in  fre¬ 
quent  contact,  as  Pat  and  I  were  always  in  quest  of  some¬ 
thing  new  as  a  means  of  occupying  the  more  or  less  idle 
time  that  was  not  required  in  giving  attention  to  the  cattle. 
On  one  of  these  explorations  through  nearby  plain  and  wood¬ 
land,  in  which  we  were  also  enjoying  the  excitment  of  chasing 
the  wild  hogs  that  roamed  in  the  bend  of  the  Big  Wichita 
river,  just  above  Wichita  Falls,  near  its  present  cemetery,  an 
old  bloodhound  that  we  had  with  us  found  and  treed  four 
panther  cubs.  Three  of  these  cubs  were  in  a  big  cotton¬ 
wood  tree  and  the  other  in  a  hackberry  not  so  large.  Pat 
and  I  shot  the  three  in  the  cottonwood  and  they  came  tum¬ 
bling  down  to  the  ground,  two  of  them  being  dead  and  the 


In  the  Bosom  of  thf  Comanchfs 


125 


Indians  Butchering  a  Cow. 


126 


In  the:  Bosom  ot  the  Comanches 


other  badly  wounded.  When  it  hit  the  ground  it  was  crying 
just  like  a  child,  and  on  hearing  its  wails  the  cub  in  the 
hackberry  tree  came  tumbling  down  also,  as  if  it  had  been 
shot.  Between  Pat  and  old  Red,  the  bloodhound,  and  my¬ 
self  we  managed  after  a  desperate  struggle  to  capture  this 
cub  and  tied  him  securely,  and  as  we  were  finishing,  the 
two  old,  or  parent  panthers,  appeared  on  the  scene  in  response 
to  the  screams  of  the  wounded  cub.  Before  we  could  realize 
their  presence  and  threatened  attack  old  Red  had  engaged 
them  both  in  unequal  combat.  Old  Red  did  not  seem  to  be 
very  much  in  their  way,  and  I  would  like  to  have  adequate 
expression  of  how  I  felt  when  I  saw  them  approaching,  but 
I  have  not  the  language  to  do  so.  One  of  their  first  efforts 
was  to  undertake  to  release  the  cub  that  had  been  tied,  and 
all  the  while  they  were  menacing  us  with  an  attack  that  we 
knew  to  be  right  at  hand.  I  seized  my  Winchester  rifle 
and  Pat  his  .45  Colt’s  pistol,  which  he  used  with  one  hand, 
holding  on  all  the  while  to  the  young  panther  with  the  other. 
There  was  no  time  for  us  to  prepare  a  campaign  of  defense, 
and  in  the  emergency  we  had  to  look  out  each  for  himself 
and  shoot  as  rapidly  and  unerringly  as  possible.  This  we 
both  did,  and  to  my  great  relief,  as  well  as  astonishment, 
we  succeeded  in  killing  both  of  the  infuriated  beasts,  just 
as  they  were  in  the  act  of  seizing  and  tearing  us  to  pieces. 
We  could  not  have  escaped  as  we  did  at  all  had  it  not 
been  for  the  brave  and  unflinching  work  of  old  Red,  the 
hound,  who  seized  the  mother  panther  in  the  beginning 
of  the  attack  and  during  the  fight  never  released  his  hold, 
notwithstanding  the  horrible  wounds  and  lacerations  he 
received.  In  this  way  the  mother  panther,  the  more  vicious 
of  the  two,  as  would  naturally  be  the  case,  was  badly  handi¬ 
capped.  We  would  shoot  and  both  panthers  would  continue 
to  advance,  and  we  must  have  shot  them  ten  or  fifteen  times 
before  killing  them.  They  were  intent  upon  but  one  thing, 


In  the:  Bosom  of  thf  Comanchfs 


127 


and  that  was  our  destruction,  and  had  we  retreated  the 
least  bit,  or  had  missed  our  aim  in  any  instance  we  could 
not  and  would  not  have  survived  the  combat.  We  carried 
our  young  panther  to  the  ranch,  and  with  the  general  treat¬ 
ment  we  administered  it  became  very  docile  and  was  valued 
highly  by  us  as  a  rare  pet.  Just  as  we  were  becoming  much 
attached  to  it,  Dutch  Joe  came  up  from  Sherman  and  we 


128 


In  thf  Bosom  of  thf  ComanchDs 


made  him  a  present  of  the  young  panther,  which  he  took 
with  him  on  his  return  to  Sherman.  The  wild  hogs  referred 
to  on  the  Wichita  river  were  the  offspring  of  a  stock  of 
hogs  owned  by  the  man  Gilbert,  who  had  the  hardihood  to 
establish  his  home  on  the  Red  river  some  fifteen  miles 
distant  before  the  Civil  War.  These  hogs  had  wandered 
from  Red  river  to  the  woodlands  bordering  on  Wichita 
river,  and  there  multiplied  in  great  number,  and  were  just 
as  wild  and  vicious  as  any  of  the  other  dangerous  denizens 
of  the  plains  or  woods.  We  derived  a  great  deal  of  excit- 
ment  from  the  chase  of  these  wild  hogs  with  our  blood¬ 
hound,  also  Red,  as  the  chase  was  always  full  of  zest  and 
danger.. 

Another  danger  more  dreadful  than  wild  beasts,  and 
one  that  in  the  summer  and  fall  seasons  lurked  evernear, 
was  that  of  the  fatal  fangs  of  the  venomous  rattlesnakes 
that  abounded  in  great  numbers  on  every  hand.  These 
were  the  black  and  diamond  rattlesnakes,  frequently  attain¬ 
ing  a  length  of  six  to  eight  feet,  and  having  from  ten  to 
twenty  rattles.  These  deadly  monsters  of  the  plains  were 
always  in  an  aggresive  mood  and  were  ever  ready  to  contest 
the  right  of  way  with  all  comers  whatsover.  At  the 
approach  of  man  or  beast  their  rattles  sounded  that  awful 
alarm  so  often  the  prelude  to  their  fatal  and  deadly  strike. 
They  would  coil  instantly,  giving  out  the  hideous  rattle  all 
the  while,  and  with  incalculable  rapidity  strike  their  full 
length,  injecting  a  venom  equal  in  fatality  to  that  of  the 
world-famed  cobra.  It  was  not  the  particular  propensity 
of  the  rattler  to  hunt  out  victims  but  rather  to  hold  its 
grounds  and  attack  and  fight  viciously  upon  the  sudden  and 
unexpected  approach  of  almost  any  living  creature.  To 
retreat  in  the  face  of  an  enemy  or  of  threatened  danger  or 
combat  was  no  part  of  the  code  of  a  rattlesnake,  whose  self- 
confidence  and  bravery  were  always  supreme.  The  great- 


In  the;  Bosom  oe4  the:  Comanchejs 


129 


est  peril  from  these  terrible  snakes,  so  very  like  the  hues 
of  the  parched  grass  concealing  them,  was  realizing  by  their 
rattle  that  they  were  near  you  and  not  knowing  in  what 
direction  to  jump  or  flee,  and  realizing  also  that  if  you 
moved  precipitately  likely  as  otherwise  you  would  land 
within  the  radius  of  their  strike,  so  deadly  as  to  be  almost 
beyond  all  hope.  One  of  the  safeguards  employed  was  that 
of  heavy  boots  with  high  tops,  but  withal  occasionally  a 
very  large  rattler  would  plant  his  fangs  entirely  above  the 
boot’s  protection.  You  have  read  and  heard  recited  the 
story  of  the  tranquil  abode  in  the  prairie-dog  hole,  of  the 
rattler,  the  prairie-dog,  and  the  owl.  All  of  which  is  the 
veriest  fiction,  since  whenever  the  rattler  entered  the  hole 
the  dogs  and  owls  either  went  out  of  the  hole  or  into  the 
snake,  for  the  snake  subsisted  largely  on  both.  With  the 
coming  of  settlements,  rattlers  disappear  rapidly,  as  no  one 
was  ever  in  too  great  a  hurry  not  to  kill  the  rattler  if  he 
had  or  was  able  to  secure  the  means  with  which  to  dis¬ 
patch  this  most  hated  and  dreaded  of  all  species  of  ven¬ 
omous  and  deadly  reptiles.  To  surround  the  camp  tent  or 
the  lonely  bunk  upon  the  slope  with  a  hair  rope  was  an 
effectual  expedient  often  employed  against  an  unwelcome 
nocturnal  visit  and  a  stealthy  occupancy  of  either  the  tent 
or  bunk  with  such  dire  results  as  death,  either  from  fright  or 
poison.  The  rattler,  like  the  tarantula  and  other  terrible, 
creeping,  crawling  things  that  once  menaced  thie  life  and 
comfort  of  the  unprotected  sleepers  upon  the  ground,  would 
not  cross  a  hair  rope. 

Upon  occasion  I  have  been  in  such  dangerousely  close 
quarters  with  the  rattler  that  I  would  cheerfully  have  ex¬ 
changed  him  for  the  biggest  lion  or  the  most  ferocious  man- 
eating  tiger  that  ever  trod  the  jungle.  I  shall  only  relate 
one  particular  harrowing  experience  with  a  rattler  from 
which  I  escapped  with  such  a  narrow  margin  as  to  make 


130 


In  thf  Bosom  of  thf  Comanchfs 


me  shudder  at  the  reflection  even  now,  some  forty  years 
after  the  occurrence.  In  the  afternoon  of  a  very  hot  day 
I  entered  upon  pursuit  of  some  cattle  that  had  wandered 
too  far  from  the  range,  and  not  wishing  to  return  without 
them  I  persisted  in  the  search  until  I  found  them  and 
started  them  back  at  the  close  of  the  day.  I  drove  the  cattle 
along  as  hurriedly  as  possible,  but  at  length  the  skies  became 
overcast  with  heavy  clouds,  and  in  the  intense  darkness 
of  the  sultry  night  I  had  difficulty  in  finding  my  way.  I 
therefore  decided,  as  I  had  often  done  before,  to  hold  for 
the  night,  and  with  the  dawn  overtake  the  cattle  and  pro¬ 
ceed  to  the  ranch  headquarters.  I  tethered  my  horse  so 
being  very  tired,  I  soon  fell  into  a  deep  sleep.  In  the  course 
of  a  few  hours  a  storm  gathered,  and  I  was  aroused  by 
that  he  could  graze,  and,  with  a  blanket  I  always  carried 
attached  to  my  saddle,  I  made  my  bed  upon  the  grass,  where, 
terrific  lightning  and  thunder.  I  raised  myself  to  a  sitting 
posture,  and  in  doing  so  I  disturbed  my  uninvited  bedmate, 
a  huge  rattlesnake,  who  announced  his  dangerous  presence 
with  that  terrifying  rattle,  that  all  who  are  familiar  with  the 
rattle  know  it  has  but  one  meaning,  a  proclamation  that  he  is 
going  into  action  then  and  there.  My  heart  stopped  beat¬ 
ing  and  my  hair  stood  straight  up,  and  I  did  not  dare 
to  move  even  if  for  the  moment  I  could  have  done  so,  as 
I  did  not  know  the  location  of  the  snake  further  than  to 
realize  from  the  horrible  rattle  that  he  was  almost  against 
me  and  in  easy  striking  distance.  A  vivid  flash  of  lightn¬ 
ing  relealed  his  wicked  snakeship  just  finishing  his  coil 
for  the  strike,  and  in  the  opposite  direction  I  rolled  with 
that  swiftness  of  motion  known  to  be  quicker  than  sight. 
As  I  rolled  I  contemplated  the  possibility  of  a  companion 
rattler  on  the  other  side,  for  snakes  ordinarily  travel  in 
pairs.  But  I  was  spared  this  added  peril,  and  after  recov¬ 
ering  some  of  my  composure  I  secured  my  gun  and  dis- 


In  the  Bosom  oe  the  Comanches 


131 


Chief  Quanah  Parker  and  His  Old  Home 


132 


In  the  Bosom  oe  the  ComancheS 


patched  what  proved  to  be  a  rattler  fully  six  feet  long  with 
eighteen  rattles.  I  selected  another  resting  place,  and  with 
blanket  and  slicker  spent  the  remainder  of  the  stormy  night 
rejoicing  over  another  escape  from  a  grave  situation.  Evi¬ 
dently  I  had  placed  my  bunk  in  the  vicinity  of  the  rattler, 
which  later  stretched  out  alongside  my  bed  for  shelter  from 
the  approaching  storm.  Had  the  snake  been  coiled  when 
I  sat  up,  he  would  certainly  have  driven  his  fangs  into  me, 
and  with  results  probably  fatal.  As  is  well  known,  the 
rattler  does  not  bite  but  strikes,  his  fangs  being  distended 
and  driven  in  with  the  force  of  the  strike,  and,  therefore,  to 
strike,  the  snake  must  be  coiled,  enabling  it  to  strike  nearly 
if  not  quite  the  distance  covered  by  its  full  length. 

Having  lived  with  the  Indians  for  two  years,  I  am  in 
position  to  speak  authoratively  of  their  inner  domestic  life, 
concerning  which  there  has  been  much  said  and  written  of 
a  fanciful  and  exaggerated  nature.  I  therefore  consider  that 
in  submitting  certain  facts  along  this  line  such  will  prove 
beneficial  to  all  who  may  want  to  know  the  truth.  The 
savage  tribes  subsisted  mainly  on  buffalo  meat,  both  fresh 
and  dried.  They  also  now  and  then  partook  of  horse-flesh, 
and  when  it  became  necessary  at  certain  intervals  subsisted 
wholly  on  the  meat  of  the  horse,  as  at  times  the  buffalo 
was  not  available.  It  was  the  custom  to  cure  in  the  sun 
the  meat  that  they  would  put  away  for  winter  consumption. 
In  preparing  meat  they  would  beat  it  up  and  then  parch 
it  on  the  coals.  Sometimes  they  stewed  their  meat,  and 
then  dipped  it  into  a  salt  brine  as  they  ate  it.  They  had 
no  regular  hours  for  repasts,  and  had  the  habit  of  eating 
whenever  they  were  hungry.  They  did  not  eat  any  bread 
at  all.  They  lived  in  what  was  known  as  tepees  or  wig¬ 
wams,  which  were  made  out  of  buffalo  hides,  dressed  and 
tanned  after  a  process  of  their  own.  They  would  take 
ten  or  fifteen  buffalo  skins  after  preparing  them,  and  sew 


In  the:  Bosom  oe*  the;  Comanchejs 


133 


Comanche  Babe  and  Cradle 


134 


In  the;  Bosom  of  the;  Comanchds 


them  together  so  as  to  make  one  tepee.  They  used  the 
sinew  of  the  buffalo  in  making  thread  and  cord.  This  sinew 
was  found  in  the  back  of  the  animal  extending  from  the  hip 
bones  to  the  shoulder  blades.  It  could  be  subdivided  into 
small  strands  like  thread,  and  each  strand  of  the  sinew  had 
ten  times  the  strength  of  the  thread  of  the  same  size.  They 
also  made  their  bowstrings  of  the  sinew,  which  strings  were 
practically  unbreakable.  As  before  stated,  the  prevailing 
custom  was  for  the  men  to  have  whatever  number  of  wives 
or  squaws  they  deemed  necessary,  which  ordinarily  amounted 
to  two  to  six  wives  to  each  man.  The  impression  has  obtained 
that  the  chief  had  special  prerogatives  as  to  the  number 
of  squaws  he  could  possess;  but  that  is  a  mistake,  as  all 
the  Indian  men  were  on  the  same  footing  and  permitted  to 
have  whatever  number  of  wives  they  desired  without  respect 
to  rank.  The  women  that  were  the  wives  or  squaws  of 
one  man  all  lived  together  and  acknowledged  the  man  as 
theirs  in  common.  There  were  a  great  many  more  women 
than  men,  as  many  of  the  warriors  were  killed  from  time 
to  time  in  their  raids  and  battles;  and  owing  to  the  greater 
number  of  women  a  great  latitude  was  extended  to  the  men 
as  to  the  number  of  wives  or  squaws  they  should  possess. 
Each  man  and  his  squaws  would  occupy  tepees  separately 
from  the  others,  but  strange  to  say  the  squaws  would  devote 
the  same  attention  to  the  children  of  other  women  as  they 
would  their  own.  Only  in  rare  instances  was  there  ever  any 
friction  or  discord  between  the  squaws  of  the  same  or  differ¬ 
ent  households,  and  it  was  the  rule,  generally  observed, 
never  to  whip  the  children,  but  to  direct  them  by  persuasion 
and  object  lessons.  However,  they  were  firm  with  their 
children,  and  commanded  obedience  and  respect  from  them. 

As  to  the  manner  of  dress  the  men  wore  shirts,  leggings, 
and  breech  clouts,  and  either  a  blanket  or  buffalo  robe. 
Most  of  the  garments  were  made  of  buckskin.  They  also 


In  the  Bosom  op  the  Comanches 


135 


TAH-HAH,  A  Modern  Comanche  Indian  Girl 


136 


In  the  Bosom  of  the  Comanches 


wore  moccasins  on  their  feet,  made  of  the  same  material. 
The  Indian  women  and  girls  were  dressed  in  buckskin,  with 
blankets  and  any  kind  of  cloth  they  could  obtain.  They 
would  take  a  blanket  and  cut  a  hole  in  the  middle  so  they 
could  get  their  heads  through,  and  then  put  a  piece  on  each 
side  in  a  V  shape,  so  that  it  would  spread  out  like  a  skirt 
and  serve  to  drape  the  body.  It  was  also  a  fixed  custom 
that  the  squaws  were  to  do  all  the  menial  work.  They 
skinned  and  dried  the  buffalo  meat,  dressed  the  hides,  and 
prepared  all  of  the  food,  supplied  the  drinking  water,  moved 
the  tepees,  and  in  fact  were  the  servants  and  menials  of  their 
lords  in  every  manner  of  domestic  work  and  service.  The 
men  were  always  kind  and  affectionate  to  the  squaws,  and 
were  never  tyrannical  in  their  treatment  of  them.  Occasion¬ 
ally  a  warrior  would  capture  a  white  woman  for  the  purpose 
of  adding  her  to  his  harem,  and  when  he  did  so  no  other 
Indian  would  dare  molest  him  or  intrude  upon  his  exclusive 
ownership  of  the  white  squaw.  The  women  of  the  tribe 
were  moral  and  virtuous  to  a  most  remarkable  degree,  and 
with  but  few  exceptions  were  loyal  to  the  men  with  whom 
they  had  been  mated.  They  seem  to  have  had  a  consid¬ 
erable  conception  of  humor,  and  indulged  in  the  habit  of 
practical  jokes  and  much  fun  at  each  other’s  expense,  which 
is  contrary  to  the  belief  so  prevalent  that  the  Indian  is 

stoical  and  solemn  on  all  occasions. 

/ 

When  an  Indian  buck  died  they  would  kill  several 
horses  for  him  to  ride  in  the  next  world.  They  all  believed 
implicitly  in  the  Great  Spirit,  as  is  generally  known.  They 
had  healers  known  as  “medicine  men,”  and  in  case  of  sick¬ 
ness  or  anyone  being  wounded  the  medicine  men  would 
come  and  wait  upon  the  patient  in  such  a  manner  as  to  call 
on  the  Great  Father  to  help  him  so  administer  treatment 
as  would  enable  the  patient  to  recover.  In  cases  of  fatal 
illness,  the  grief  of  the  parents  and  kinsmen  was  often 


In  thf  Bosom  of  thf  Comanchfs 


137 


inconsolable.  I  recall  one  particular  instance  when  I  was 
residing  in  Wichita  Falls  in  1887,  when  an  Indian  by  the 
name  of  Black  Horse,  in  the  employ  of  Messrs.  Frank  and 
George  Knott  in  Wichita  Falls,  who  had  grass  leases  in  the 


An  Indian  Belle  of  recent  times. 


138 


In  the:  Bosom  oi*  the:  Comanche:s 


Comanche  reservation,  lost  one  of  his  children.  Black  Horse 
killed  five  of  his  horses,  saying  that  he  wanted  to  be  sure 
the  little  boy  would  be  well  mounted  in  the  next  world,  to 
which  he  had  gone.  Black  Horse  only  had  eight  horses, 
and  the  killing  of  five  left  him  three  only,  which  was  not  a 
sufficient  mount  for  the  remaining  five  members  of  the 
family,  and  he  at  once  came  to  Wichita  Falls  for  the  pur¬ 
pose  of  having  the  Knott  brothers  buy  him  two  more  horses. 
Black  Horse  did  not  know  how  to  explain  to  the  Knott 
brothers,  and  he  came  to  my  home  between  twelve  and 
one  o’clock  at  night,  when  my  family  and  I  were  sound 
asleep.  He,  however,  pounded  on  the  house  and  called  for 
me  by  my  Indian  name.  Finally  he  had  aroused  Mrs.  Babb, 
who  called  to  me,  saying,  “There  are  some  Indians  wanting 
you  on  the  outside.”  Mrs.  Babb  was  familiar  with  my 
Indian  name,  and  for  that  reason  understood  the  Indian 
desired  to  see  me.  I  went  to  the  door,  and  asked  what 
they  wanted.  Black  Horse  related  his  troubles,  and  re¬ 
quested  me  to  go  with  him  the  next  morning  to  Mr.  Knott’s 
home  and  explain  to  him  the  object  of  his  mission,  as  Black 
Horse  could  not  speak  English.  I  accordingly  accompanied 
him,  and  after  due  and  satisfactory  explanations  Mr.  Knott 
let  him  have  the  two  horses.  As  a  further  manifestation 
of  his  grief  over  the  loss  of  his  little  boy,  Black  Horse  had 
burned  up  his  tepees,  wagons,  buggy,  harness,  and  in  fact 
most  everything  he  had,  and  said  he  did  so  because  in  this 
way  all  of  such  equipment  would  reach  his  boy  and  be  of 
assistance  to  him  in  the  other  world.  I  mention  this  instance 
to  explain  the  popular  conception  the  Indians  had  of  death 
and  the  life  hereafter. 

The  Indians  drum  or  tomtom  was  made  by  stretching 
rawhide  over  some  hollow  vessel  fashioned  after  the  nature 
of  a  cheese  hoop.  The  shields  they  used  so  effectively  in 
protecting  their  bodies  from  bullets  were  made  out  of  bull- 


In  the  Bosom  of  the  Comanches 


139 


neck,  oval  shaped,  about  eighteen  inches  across,  and  would 
turn  almost  any  bullet.  These  shields  the  Indians  would 
use  held  in  front  if  advancing,  or  thrown  over  their  backs, 
if  retreating.  The  Indians  would  undergo  any  amount  of 
peril  and  danger  in  taking  their  wounded  off  the  field  of 
battle  unless  scalped,  as  they  had  a  superstition  against 
recovering  a  scalped  victim  of  their  tribe. 


Present  Day  Indian  Girls  Visiting  the  City. 


140 


In  the  Bosom  oe  the  Comanches 


Chieftains  were  usually  men  who  had  won  leadership  by 
personal  bravery  and  exhibitions  of  courage  and  skill,  either 
in  the  chase  or  on  the  field  of  battle,  and  where  the  chief 
proved  himself  worthy,  his  descendants  succeeded  him  in 
authority  from  one  generation  to  another.  The  oldest  son 
always  took  precedence  in  succeeding  to  the  father’s  rank. 
In  the  event  of  death  of  a  chief  without  a  direct  descendant 
to  succeed  him  there  would  be  held  a  council  of  the  warriors 
who  would  select  one  of  their  number  and  install  him  as 
their  chief.  There  were  always  division  chiefs,  who  would 
have  direct  supervision  over  about  a  thousand  warriors 
each,  and  each  chief  would  have  his  staff,  something  in 
the  manner  of  a  general  of  the  army;  and  the  chiefs  and  their 
staffs  or  counsellors,  as  they  were  known,  were  supreme 
in  all  tribal  laws  and  regulations.  There  were  never  any 
inter-tribal  marriages,  as  the  policy  was  for  each  tribe  to 
live  to  itself.  They  also  observed  much  the  same  rules  as  to 
marrying  their  kin  as  are  prescribed  by  the  rules  and  laws 
of  civilization.  I  have  heard  them  explain  that  in  this 
observation  they  desired  to  avoid  disease,  deformity,  and 
many  other  ills  common  to  intermarrying  in  too  close  a  de¬ 
gree  of  kinship.  They  were  if  anything  more  particular  in  this 
respect  than  white  people.  It  is  notable  that  with  the 
Indians  there  is  neither  insanity  nor  epilepsy.  They  had 
no  written  records  of  any  kind  and  depended  solely  on 
tradition  as  handed  down  from  one  generation  to  another. 
They  had  unbounded  admiration  for  any  white  man  who 
had  exhibited  bravery  in  their  combats  with  them,  and  in 
reviewing  the  past  always  spoke  in  terms  of  greatest  praise 
of  their  white  adversaries  who  withstood  the  terrible  Indian 
charges  unflinchingly.  Another  striking  characteristic  was 
their  truthfulness  and  their  respect  for  the  truth  in  all 
daily  intercourse  and  transactions.  In  the  beginning  they 
were  made  to  undervalue  the  good  traits  of  the  white  man, 


In  the;  Bosom  of  the:  Comanchfs 


141 


Indians  drawing  rations  near  Fort  Sill 


142 


In  thf  Bosom  of  thf  Comanchfs 


as  their  first  contact  with  the  white  race  was  with  thieves 
and  outlaws,  causing  them  to  conclude  that  all  white  men 
were  alike  and  that  in  killing  and  punishing  them  they  were 
doing  a  righteous  and  just  deed;  and  there  can  be  no  ques¬ 
tion  but  that  they  were  more  or  less  animated  by  what 
they  esteemed  to  be  a  protection  of  their  rights,  priviliges, 
and  possessions.  *  The  Indian  warriors  generally  had  good 
discipline,  and  when  on  the  warpath  they  would  put  out 
sentinels  on  high  points  and  guard  the  rear  as  they  marched 
or  slept.  Their  custom  was  to  sleep  awhile  and  travel 
again,  making  sometimes  as  many  as  three  sleeps  in  one 
night.  In  their  skirmishes  and  battles  the  various  units  would 
sometimes  become  separated,  and  in  reuniting  they  would 
at  night  build  fires  and  surround  them  with  blankets  and 
thus  force  columns  of  smoke  to  ascend  as  sentinels  to  be 
seen  and  used  as  a  common  rendezvous./ 

The  Indians  had  no  eyebrows,  eye  lashes,  nor  whiskers, 
as  they  were  pulled  out  with  tweezers.  The  Indian  men 
would  all  have  whiskers  about  the  same  as  white  men  but 
for  this  fact.  The  Indians  were  also  respectful  and  unusually 
affectionate  to  their  old  people,  and  would  provide  and 
care  for  them  tenderly.  The  Indians  also  in  their  primeval 
state  almost  immune  from  disease  and  usually  died  from 
senility,  and  often  attained  to  the  great  age  of  over  a 
hundred  years.  There  was  rarely  ever  any  deaths  at  child¬ 
birth,  and  the  women  were  not  very  prolific,  which  was 
supposed  to  be  due  to  the  drudgery  of  their  servile  lives 
and  excessive  horseback  riding.  It  would  be  a  rare  case 
when  there  would  be  more  than  three  children  born  to  one 
squaw.  The  Indians  counted  the  winter  and  summer  as  a 
year  each.  In  the  burial  of  their  dead  the  Comanches 
would  select  a  site  on  a  bluff  and  cover  the  remains  with 
rocks,  and  in  extreme  cases,  if  a  chieftain,  they  would  dig 
a  grave,  and  make  interment  >  therein.  The  Cheyennes 


In  thf  Bosom  of  the:  Comanchfs 


143 


Fourth  of  July  Celebration,  Snyder,  Okla. 


144 


In  the  Bosom  of  the  Comanches 


buried  in  trees  or  on  scaffolds.  When  a  warrior  was  buried 
his  bows,  arrows,,  clothes,  gun,  and  all  war  trappings  were 
buried  with  him.  The  men  and  women  were  permitted  to 
mate  or  marry  as  their  mutual  affections  and  sentiment 
directed,  and  it  was  a  general  practice  of  the  old  men  to 
select  the  youngest  girls  whenever  moved  by  desire  to 
recruit  their  harems.  Generally  the  Indians  were  very  con¬ 
siderate  of  their  captives,  and  I  have  known  not  a  few 
to  return  to  the  Indians  and  others  that  would  have  returned 
if  they  had  been  given  the  opportunity.  Such  captives 
had  found  the  Indians  hospitable  and  generous,  dividing 
liberally  and  freely  any  and  everything  they  had  or  could 
get  that  would  minister  to  the  pleasure  and  comfort  of  the 
captured.  Strange  as  it  may  seen,  the  savage  tribes  had 
many  of  the  instincts  and  finer  impulses  and  emotions 
inherent  in  the  best  races  of  people  and  civilization  the 
world  over. 

During  my  captivity  with  the  Comanche  Indians  I 
learned  their  speech  and  lingo  pretty  thoroughly.  Some 
four  or  five  hundred  words  comprise  their  vocabulary,  con¬ 
sisting  almost  wholly  of  nouns  and  adjectives.  Their  speech 
embodies  mainly  the  names  of  objects.  The  deficiency 
in  language  as  to  their  emotions,  shades  of  feeling  and 
descriptive  utterances  found  an  amplified  expression  in 
the  art  of  gesticulation,  in  which  they  were  both  masterful 
and  graceful.  They  had  no  patronymics  or  surnames,  and 
derived  their  individual  names  from  some  closely  connected 
circumstance,  event,  or  happening,  trivial  or  otherwise, 
and  these  names,  even  with  chiefs,  passed  out  forever  with 
the  bearer  thereof. 

In  closing  this  autobiography  I  refrain  from  reciting 
many  incidents,  in  the  hope  that  I  may  avoid  the  prolixity 
of  too  voluminous  a  narrative.  Within  the  scope  embraced 
herein  I  have  endeavored  to  throw  some  light  on  all  the 


In  the  Bosom  of  the  Comanches 


145 


Present  Day  Comanche  Mother  and  Son. 


146 


In  the:  Bosom  oe1  the:  Comanche;s 


phases  of  life,  tribal  characteristics,  and  viewpoints  of  one 
of  the  great  subdivisions  of  the  aboriginal  inhabitants  of 
North  America,  and  in  doing  so  I  feel  that  I  have  performed 
no  mean  service.  There  is  now  left  only  the  shadow  of  the 
multitudinous  Indian  tribes  who  until  so  recently  overspread 
this  continent.  Before  this  fact  can  be  realized  the  shadow 
will  have  vanished  entirely  and  forever,  and  any  record 
that  will  faithfully  illuminate  the  exploits,  the  part  played 
and  even  the  very  existence  of  the  Indian  races,  so  numer¬ 
ous  and  powerful  in  the  past,  must  enrich  history  and  prove 
a  valued  heritage  to  generations  now  living  and  to  follow. 
Being  myself  one  of  the  pathfinders,  I  have  striven  to 
convey  something  of  the  sufferings  and  sacrifices  of  the 
fearless,  hardy  and  noble  men  and  women  who  pushed 
ever  back  the  borders  of  the  frontiers  and  broadened  the 
zone  and  limits  of  civilization.  These  were,  the  pioneers  of 
Texas,  most  of  them  having  been  called  to  their  last  reward, 
but  not  until  they  realized  that  they  had  bequeathed  to 
mankind  one  of  the  greatest  commonwealths  known  to  the 
nations  of  all  the  world. 

As  I  now  enter  the  lengthening  shadows  of  life,  and 
looking  back  reckon  the  march  of  the  wheels  of  progress 
I  feel  amply  compensated  for  the  privations,  sorrows,  and 
struggles  experienced  and  borne  by  me  in  the  modest  part 
I  have  performed  in  that  thrilling  drama  enacted  upon  the 
Texas  frontier  which  in  tragedy,  endurance,  daring,  pathos, 
variety,  and  intensity  of  action  is  comparable  with  the 
imperishable  roles  of  the  world’s  best  heroes  in  all  the 
ages  of  an  unmeasured  past. 


Ill 


